


Gold Dust

by Kihyunie



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Coming of Age, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Travelogue, could be a soulmate au if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-07-12 00:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 70,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19937305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kihyunie/pseuds/Kihyunie
Summary: Fate stumbles into Jeno’s life on a Wednesday afternoon in the form of a stranger walking up the dusty street.(aka Jeno meets Jaemin and everything changes)





	1. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where it starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!
> 
> some of you may have seen me talk about this fic on twt, others may have been forced to listen to me cry about it and some may not know that this thing has been my baby for the past seven months. 
> 
> I've written this story for self-indulgent reasons only and it's therefore rlly sappy and personal but I'm sharing it because maybe there's someone else who feels like they don't have a place in the world.
> 
> I have to thank mira, my beta reader and my best friend - some of these words are yours. Thank you for being part of the journey and giving me a home so far away from where i came from, I love you the most.  
> and thanks to raha, who stumbled into my life as if it was fate.
> 
> warnings for poetic descriptions and a lot of cheesiness/idealised romantic shit. It might not be realism but that doesn’t mean it cannot be the truth. 
> 
>   
> here are some songs:
> 
> morning light - wesley kneprath  
> tidal wave - old sea brigade  
> surprise yourself - jack garatt  
> boy - odesza
> 
> OK im sorry I'll stop being an emotional bitch now, I hope you enjoy this!

**Fernweh** [ˈfɛrnveː] _(n.) – orig. German_ **  
**“farsickness”• a desire to travel • a longing for far-off places

Antonym:  
**homesickness** [ˈhəʊmˌsɪknəs] _(n.)_  
a longing for home and family while absent from them

* * *

**Home**

_“I’m craving a great adventure – one that leads me back home.” – Donna Lynn Hope_

Fate stumbles into Jeno’s life on a Wednesday afternoon in the form of a stranger walking up the dusty street.

Jeno wouldn't have seen him if he wasn't clipping the flowers that his mother keeps in the front yard, but he is and Jeno hasn't seen a stranger in a while. In this two-hundred people village he knows every name and every face but not this one.

This one is special but he doesn’t yet know why.

It’s a young man around twenty, much like Jeno himself, with a huge backpack on his shoulders. His hair is the colour of smooth caramel, a striking change to the black Jeno always sees everywhere, but he looks kind. Youthful even, though he seems tired with the way he’s dragging his feet.

He’s pleasant on the eyes, to say the least. Jeno finds it hard to look away.

It doesn’t take long until the stranger is right in front of him, sheepishly clasping sunburnt hands together. When he smiles he shows a row of teeth so perfect that Jeno is mildly taken aback, and Jeno realises he's been staring.

The boy asks something in English, or at least Jeno thinks he does. His own English sucks so he asks, "Do you speak Korean? Japanese?"

The boy’s face brightens. "You speak Korean?”

"I am Korean.” Jeno gestures around. “This _is_ Korea."

The boy laughs self-consciously. "Oh, shit, you’re right. Sorry, super tired. Anyways, I'm looking for the rice farm."

"Oh.” Of course Jeno knows the rice farm, and the family that owns it. He’s worked there before, the entirety of last year’s summer. This year he’s switched it up, working at the tiny store in the centre and helping his mother’s online business. “It’s right down the road. You’ll see the gates to the right."

The boy smiles again and hoists his huge backpack up. There’s sweat on his temples, Jeno notices, even though it’s not that hot. “Thank you, uh…?”

“Lee Jeno,” Jeno says.

“Well, thank you very much, Lee Jeno.”

The stranger turns to leave and Jeno doesn’t know why but he blurts out, “And who are you?”

There’s a strange tug in his guts, like he doesn’t really want the guy to leave. There aren’t a lot of people his age in this village; they’ve all moved away as soon as they could, seeking out bigger towns. Jisung even went to Seoul, sending the occasional picture.

That must be it: the desire to make a friend when everyone else has left you behind.

“Oh,” the boy says. “I’m Na Jaemin.”

“And you’re not from here.”

Jeno worries that might have sounded too hostile, which isn’t at all how he meant it, but Jaemin grins one more time and says, “Just passing through.”

“Well. I hope you have a nice time here anyways.”

“Thanks.”

They look at each other for a moment longer and Jeno feels weirdly electric under Jaemin’s gaze before Jaemin turns away.

Jeno watches him walk away, vanishing behind the last house. He can tell his neighbour, Mrs Kim, is doing the same, albeit through the curtains.

It has been a while since a stranger came to the village, after all.

Jaemin is going to stay for two weeks. The old ladies in the tiny store talk about it as Jeno helps put the sweet potatoes in the baskets.

Jaemin is working at the farm in return for a place to sleep and a bit of food, they’re saying.

He's just passing through.

Jeno is not surprised to hear people talking about him barely a day after he showed up. It’s the most exciting thing to happen since the day the old farmer left a gate open and half the village had to chase chickens off their front yards.

Jeno himself is curious. This village is not the most rural, being only about an hour away from the next bigger town, but rural and boring enough to be overlooked by tourists. There’s nothing to do here except farm and sit in the sun. There’s only the one little shop that sells the goods that are grown here, traditional foods, the occasional necessities that a truck brings from the town a few times a month. The owner’s wife is a hairdresser, which is pretty handy, too, Jeno thinks, but otherwise? Nothing. Just dust and cicadas and the impending humidity of a long summer.

He wants to know what someone like Jaemin could find appealing here.

The appearance of someone new doesn’t change as much as Jeno might have wished it would. He doesn’t see Jaemin for a while, doesn’t meet him at any of the public spots in the village despite hanging out there more often than usual.

But no. It’s like nothing happened. Everything is the way it always is, like no stranger appeared at all.

Life is slow in the country side. Stagnant. Jeno lives every day of his life in pretty much the same way: he has breakfast with his mother and sister, plays with his cats, reads a book, tends the shop, has lunch. In the evening he goes back home, takes a shower, helps his father with his woodwork while his sister helps his mum in the kitchen, and then they all have dinner together.

Oftentimes they talk and tell each other stories. Sometimes he and Eunjin play games, or fight about games. Sometimes Jeno reads more, other times he helps his mum with the online shop she opened for handmade wrist-bands, rare times he thinks about whether the future holds more than just the same day lived over and over, always in the same way, just in different seasons.

Jeno isn’t one for adventure. He _likes_ the village – the steady trickle of existing as opposed to the fast-paced life in the city that Donghyuck sometimes tells him about. He’s content here, he thinks. It would just be nice to meet someone who’s from somewhere else and talk about the kind of life that’s out there, somewhere, being lived by other people.

He wonders if Jaemin likes it here. If he’s tried Mrs Jeon’s homemade soybean paste yet. Is he happy here, even though it’s not home?

“Have you heard of the guy that came here?” Jeno asks at dinner, pressing his rice against the plate to make it easier to scoop up. “The one who works at the fields?”

“Am I the only person who hasn’t seen him yet?” Eunjin complains.

His dad looks up. “He’s supposedly a good worker.”

“He should be,” his mum throws in. “He gets to live in the house for free.”

Jeno hums, still looking at the food.

“Why so interested?” Eunjin asks, kicking his shin under the table. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking after cute strangers?”

“Can’t a guy be curious?” Jeno snaps back. “Also how do you know he’s cute if you haven’t seen him?”

“Oh, so he _is_ cute!”

“No, he – shut up.”

“It’s not very you to get curious.”

“I just asked a simple question –”

“No fighting,” Jeno’s mum says decidedly and Jeno settles back into the backrest of the chair while Eunjin smirks at him.

He’s just curious. That’s all. It would have been a nice distraction from the daily routine, talking to someone of his own age, someone who isn’t from here. Just for once in his life, pretending to be more adventurous than he really is.

Jeno is lazing around behind the counter with a beat-up copy of Harry Potter when Jaemin comes into the store. At this hour, early afternoon, business is even slower than usual but Mrs Jeon likes having someone present anyway. Jeno doesn’t mind; it’s an excuse to relax rather than help at home.

He looks up. Jaemin places a bag of dried fruit and a bottle of water on the counter, sliding a bunch of notes across the wood with a smile. He looks a lot more awake than he did the first time Jeno met him, even though he’s sweaty and grimy from working in the field. He must be on a break. “Long time no see, Lee Jeno.”

Jeno counts the notes and opens the drawer for change, a hundred questions on his tongue. “Having a good time in our little village?”

Jaemin takes the coins from Jeno but doesn’t pick up his purchases. “It’s very refreshing after spending time in cities.”

“ _Refreshing_ ,” Jeno repeats and snorts. “There’s nothing happening here.”

“What do you mean? There’s plenty.”

“I wouldn’t call a tiny village plenty.”

“Well, for one, you are here.” Jaemin winks at him and Jeno drops the receipt, flushing a deep red. “Second, there’s plenty to do. I just came from Sydney, so I wanted a break from all that noise, you know.”

Sydney. Jaemin has been to _Australia_. The farthest Jeno has ever been is the next town over. “Australia? What was that like?”

Jaemin gnaws at his bottom lip. “You see, I haven’t really made any friends yet. Let’s meet at the fields after your shift maybe? I mean, if you want. I'll tell you all about it.”

“I – sure. Yeah. Cool. I finish at around five.”

They smile at each other before Jaemin picks up his stuff and leaves with a wave.

Jeno sits there for a while, wondering what just happened. Asking himself why he was asking Jaemin all these questions when he usually never finds the words. But this was easy, ridiculously so, like he already knows Jaemin. Like he was pulling the words right out of his mouth with half a smile.

Very strange, Jeno thinks. He picks his book back up but he can’t focus on reading anymore, thoughts circling back to Jaemin and the prospect of talking to him. Maybe he shouldn’t be this excited for something so simple but then again, nothing ever happens here.

It’s not yet dark when Jeno comes to the fields. They belong to the rice farm and stretch out, but there’s a bench there that Jeno finds Jaemin already sitting on.

He’s not nervous. It’s weird, really; Jeno doesn’t do too well around strangers, even less foreigners. Jaemin is not technically a foreigner but he’s from somewhere else. He’s some _thing_ else, it seems.

He’s a tug in Jeno’s guts that feels like a ray of sunlight whenever he closes his eyes.

“Hi,” Jeno says shyly, sinking down next to him. “I brought some bread.”

“Whoa! It’s been ages since I had this,” Jaemin exclaims and tears a corner off the soft bread that Jeno handed him. Jeno knows from experience how good it is, rich and sticky with the sweet paste inside.

“It’s been ages since we had a tourist here,” Jeno tells him. “Everyone is really curious.”

_I am really curious._

Jaemin smiles softly. “That’s sweet. But I’m not a tourist.”

“Then what are you?”

“A seeker.”

Jeno thinks of the Harry Potter book he’s left behind on his desk but he figures Jaemin means something else. “Can I ask what you’re seeking?”

“I don’t know yet.” Jaemin shrugs and stuffs another piece of bread into his mouth. He squints at the pastel-coloured sky for a moment, like he’s trying to read the answer off the firmament. “But I hope I’ll find it soon.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t find that in Australia then.”

“No.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Jeno wants to look at Jaemin to gauge his expression but he feels too shy and instead opts for the far edge of the fields, now a line full of shadows. Jeno likes it out here, where the breeze is always the freshest.

“So… are you just a traveller then?”

Jaemin hums in confirmation, a low rumbling sound. “I’m originally from the UK but I’ve been around a lot.”

Jeno doesn’t know what to ask first. _Why did you leave home? How did you do it? Where does the money come from?_ But eventually he’s asking the question that’s been on his mind since Jaemin arrived here, a question that might have been simmering somewhere deep inside him for much longer. “What’s the world like?”

When Jeno turns to look at him Jaemin is smiling again. It’s the kind of smile that’s bright no matter how dark the night is, some unbridled and unpolluted sincerity that is impossible to get used to.

“Oh Jeno,” Jaemin says. “The world is so big and there are so many places to go to, I feel like my entire life isn’t long enough to see it all.”

Jeno stares at him, his words sinking into his bones like pebbles into mud. “Really?”

“You don’t get around much, do you?”

“Uh. Not really.” _Not at all._

“Well. It’s worth it. Even when you’re scared, it’s – rewarding. Cathartic, in a way. I’ve met a lot of kind people.”

Jeno has no idea what exactly he means but the expression in Jaemin’s eyes is enough to strengthen the heaviness in Jeno’s stomach. He feels like he’s wasted his life away by never doing anything. Never going anywhere. And yet he knows that after Jaemin leaves this village behind, too, nothing will have changed. It never does. Jeno will wish for a while that he could travel, too, will end up telling himself that maybe next year he’ll take some of his saved money to go to Japan, but in the end, as always, he won’t be going anywhere.

“You know,” Jaemin says quietly, now looking out to the horizon. “I quite like it here. I think… I think I might stay for a while.”

Jeno doesn’t know why exactly but the words make him feel warm inside.

After that Jaemin comes to the store almost every day during his break. He slinks around the narrow shelves when there are other customers, occasionally chatting with them, but mostly waiting for them to leave, so he can talk to Jeno.

Jeno isn’t one to make friends fast, especially not with people who aren’t from here but with Jaemin it’s easy, like they’ve been friends in a different life and ran into each other again in this one.

Jeno gets used to his presence quickly – but not to Jaemin himself. It doesn't make sense to him at first; Jaemin is easy enough to be around, he speaks his language, he's very much Korean – but he has a strangeness to his person, too. He's unpredictable and flirty and it's clear he grew up very far away from here, somewhere where there are less traditions and more freedom.

But Jeno learns a lot, too. Jaemin has been travelling the world for months now, never staying for longer than a few weeks. Sometimes he works for accommodation, sometimes he stays in AirBnBs, which is a thing Jeno has only heard of. Jaemin talks about his adventures in the US, in Canada, in Brazil with a light in his eyes that wasn’t there before and it pulls at something inside Jeno again.

He doesn’t have a name for it. It’s a kind of yearning, a desire to know the unknown. In his twenty-one years of living he’s never been further away from home than the next town and he had always thought that was okay. He didn’t feel the need to leave, not yet. He figured he’d have time one day.

But Jaemin shows him pictures on his phone, tells him about Mark Lee, a Canadian boy who joined him on his journey until they split up again in LA. He tells him about their adventures and the things they ate together, the places they saw, how nice it was to not be alone at least for that part of the travels.

What would that be like? To travel through a country whose language you don’t understand? Meeting more strangers in bigger cities where they eat stranger food?

Absurd, Jeno thinks. Adventurous. Batshit crazy. Fun, too, probably. With Jaemin, it would be.

Jeno asks him about it once, how he thought about travelling the world. "What made you leave?"

“It’s not that,” Jaemin replies, flicking a bug off his knee. “But nothing made me stay."

Jeno is still thinking about it when he’s walking home, having reluctantly parted ways with Jaemin to catch up on sleep. They’ve been hanging out until long into the night lately.

What’s making _him_ stay? Why is he still here, even though he’s long done with school? Is it fear? Is it family?

It must be that, Jeno thinks. He has never been anywhere without his family. He doesn’t think he could leave his parents behind for an entire year, just like that, walking into the unknown with a backpack full of maps.

He wonders if Jaemin misses home.

Jeno’s family invite Jaemin for dinner after Jeno tells them he befriended him. His mother dotes on him, squishes his cheeks and tells him he’s too skinny and should eat more, and Jeno is embarrassed before he sees how Jaemin preens under the attention. He _must_ miss his family, Jeno thinks. It must be difficult to be so far away from them. Jeno doesn’t even want to imagine what that’s like.

Eunjin kicks his shin under the table when Jaemin is busy talking to their parents. “Thanks for bringing this cutie into the house.”

Jeno rolls his eyes but he can’t hide how the words get under his skin. He feels strangely protective of Jaemin. “He’s three years younger than you, don’t be creepy.”

“And? I need to get married soon.”

“You – thank God he’s leaving.”

Eunjin just laughs. It’s like she knows that Jeno doesn’t mean it.

Four days before Jaemin’s supposed departure, Jaemin tells him he’s going to stay a little longer.

Jeno doesn’t understand the surge of relief flooding through him. He was prepared, knew from day one that Jaemin was just a visitor.

Was just passing through.

It doesn’t feel like he is anymore. Jeno isn’t sure, doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t want to get used to Jaemin just to wave goodbye to him again, too soon, always too soon.

Jeno knows he can’t keep Jaemin. It’s only been ten days, it shouldn’t be hard.

But.

But it _is_ hard. Thinking about being left alone in this village full of nothing after Jaemin breezed through it like a gust of ocean air. It’s hard.

Jeno doesn’t want to say goodbye to Jaemin yet. To that beautiful stranger. The one who brings sunshine wherever he goes.

It’s inevitable. Saying goodbye.

It’s just sad, Jeno thinks, it’s sad that it’s always him who gets left behind.

Four days before that pushed departure, Donghyuck comes back to the village to see his family and Jeno is _excited_.

Hyuck is his best friend for a lack of better a term, having grown up alongside Jeno. He’s moved to town to enrol at the local university and he’s doing well there, studying mechanical engineering and making use of the nightlife it offers. Every once in a while he comes back, mostly just to eat some home-cooked meals and annoy his siblings, and then he vanishes again for the next few weeks.

He never forgets to visit Jeno, though.

“HEY, WHAT’S UP, BASTARD!”

Jeno’s body locks up at the tell-tale scream and in the next moment he’s being hugged, or choked, or something in between. “Hey, Hyuck.”

“Dude, I missed you,” Hyuck whines and finally lets him go. “I have all sorts of tea to spill, man. I even made a list on my phone, wait, let me pull it up. You won’t believe who Jungwoo hooked up with –”

Just like that, two hours pass. Jeno laughs so hard about Hyuck’s dramatic re-enactments that he almost busts a lung and after that they eat with Jeno’s family, who are even weaker for Hyuck than they are for Jeno despite knowing that he’s a troublemaker. Jeno realises how much he’s missed him and his antics, his presence that always functions as an energiser no matter how tired he is.

They sit outside on the doorstep afterwards, sharing a tub of ice cream that Jeno dug out of the freezer. It’s not yet warm enough at night for this kind of thing but Jeno doesn’t mind; green tea ice cream is worth it.

“I can’t believe you’re still rotting away here. Just pick a course already and join me. This is more of a rhetorical question,” Hyuck says, digging his spoon into the plastic container. “But have I missed anything while I was gone?”

Jeno thinks about a stranger walking up the street. About fate patting him on the shoulder and pointing at a boy with a bright smile. He kind of wants to keep Jaemin a secret but that doesn’t make any sense, so he says, “There’s this guy –”

Jeno doesn’t get any more words out before Hyuck is violently shaking him by the shoulders, spoons clattering to the dusty floor. “You! Got a boyfriend! And didn’t think! You should! Tell me!”

“What the fuck, he’s not my _boyfriend_!” Jeno clarifies and shoves Hyuck off. “We’re friends, I was about to tell you that he’s a traveller who’s been like, _everywhere_ , which is so _cool_.”

Hyuck drops his arms to the side. “Oh. I liked the boyfriend story better.”

Jeno rolls his eyes and picks his spoon back up, trying to free it from dirt. It’s hopeless.

“Anyways, so can I meet him?”

Jeno looks up like a deer caught in headlights. “Now?”

Hyuck shrugs. “You’re friends, right? Text him to come over.”

In the end that’s what Jeno does. It doesn’t take fifteen minutes until Jaemin rounds the corner, face brightening when he spots Jeno and Hyuck still squished together on the doorstep.

Hyuck immediately rams his elbow into Jeno’s side. “If you don’t wanna wife him, can I?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeno mutters and pushes him away.

“Hey,” Jaemin says cheerily when he reaches them, extending a hand to Hyuck. “I’m Jaemin.”

Hyuck seizes him up, which looks absolutely ridiculous, but he takes the hand. “Donghyuck. You’re a traveller, huh? The hell are you doing _here_?”

Jaemin winks at Jeno and Hyuck laughs. “Telling cute boys stories from all over the world.”

“Na Jaemin, huh?” Hyuck says with a sly grin as he’s about to leave, too. Jaemin had already bid goodnight. “He’s quite a… person.”

“Wow, Hyuck. You almost sound like someone who’s receiving higher education.”

“Fuck off, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

Hyuck’s smile fades. “Just don’t get too attached, right? I know you’re friends but it’s going to be harder once he leaves.”

 _Once he leaves_. Jeno has been thinking about it, too. “I’m just happy with the time we have. Don’t worry.”

Jeno repeats that to himself long after Hyuck has gone home. _Don’t worry don’t worry don’t worry._

Being with Jaemin soon feels like breathing. Something you do unconsciously. A necessity. A part of Jeno feels like he’s been friends with him since forever; his lost soulmate perhaps, if those existed.

And yet.

Parts of Jaemin are unknowable. Like the ocean, an ocean that Jeno has never actually seen outside of photos and movies and poetry.

But the ocean is full of secrets, and it’s treacherous and beautiful and free. So free and vast. Like Jaemin. Uncontainable.

Many, many men have lost themselves to the sea.

The night sky is unrelenting. A breeze ruffles through black and brown hair. The stars stare down at two young men who are thinking about fate and every single thing that could separate them.

They’ve been sitting here for a while, silent, listening to the wind. It’s a little bit cold, so Jeno sits close to Jaemin and presses his shoulder against him. It’s nice having him near and Jeno will exploit it as long as he still can.

It’s not long until Jaemin leaves for good. By now it’s obvious that it’s hard for both of them; Jeno didn’t expect it but Jaemin seems fond of him, too.

Jeno doesn’t want to think about what it’s going to be like to return to his boring village routine. No adventure. No Jaemin. He doesn’t want to think about goodbyes.

Jaemin’s hand is warm when he places it on Jeno’s knee.

“Come with me.”

A siren’s call.

Jeno dips his toes into unknown waters. “With you?”

“I can show you the world.”

“Isn't that a quote from somewhere?”

“Yes, it's from Aladdin which is the superior Disney movie because – wait. Don’t distract.” Jaemin’s smile sharpens in the moonlight. A shark circling its prey, except the prey doesn’t want to escape. Jeno is already drowning.

“I don't know...”

“Do you want to stay here forever?”

“No...”

“Come with me, Jeno. Just for a little while. There is so much to see and you can go home whenever you want.”

“I… where would we even go?”

“We’ll figure it out. Doesn’t have to be far.”

“Um. Okay?”

The waves crash above Jeno’s head.

Jeno can’t believe he agreed to this. He’s lying awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, and thinks about what Jaemin’s arm felt like around his shoulders earlier. It’s easy to say yes when Jaemin is that close. Impossible to say no, even.

But now, in the familiar dark of his room, Jeno realises what he said and what it means: it means leaving. It means going where he’s never been, with someone he just barely knows, someone who’s so strikingly different from him that it borders on a miracle that they get along at all.

But they do and it’s another thing that scares Jeno because it’s only been a few weeks and he’s already so attached. If he follows Jaemin to God knows where, saying goodbye will only get harder.

But he wants to. God, he wants to, for once in his life, wants to do something for himself and take this opportunity.

So perhaps he should. Just for a week, maybe. Just for one moment, one small adventure. Maybe it’s not a big deal after all.

His mum is not happy. Jeno didn’t expect her to be, expected the hands-on-hips pose and the disapproving frown.

“Jeno. You met him not even two weeks ago. You’ve never been away from home. This is a recipe for disaster.”

Jeno feels strangely young and small like this, as if he’s back to fourteen, asking his mum if he can go on a camping trip with Hyuck. Except now things are different and Jeno isn’t entirely sure what exactly he’s asking for. “You said you think he’s nice.”

“Yes, he is but that doesn’t mean I’ll be able to sleep well knowing you go out into the world with him!”

“I don’t even know if I want to go that far. I just – maybe I will just join him for a trip to, I don’t know, Daegu. That would be alright, wouldn’t it?”

His mum looks at him and sighs, giving up. “I guess you’re old enough to make that decision…”

They are sitting on the ground, one of Jaemin’s maps spread out on the floor. Several random items hold the pages down: a pen, a compass, a coin of a foreign currency.

In front of Jeno, his adventure forms.

“Do you want to plan this or just go?" Jaemin asks. “We can throw a piece of gum at the map and where it sticks that’s our destination.”

Jeno snorts. “That’s nuts. I never agreed to like, go around the world with you. I’m just company for a while.”

“So you want to plan.”

“A little bit? It would help my mum sleep. It's a miracle she's letting me go at all.”

Jaemin slants a curious look at him, eyes glinting under long twiggy eyelashes. “You're twenty-one.”

“Family means a lot to me. Does it not to you?”

“Not enough to keep me tied down.”

That’s Jaemin: evasive answers that are just truth enough to keep people off his back. Never enough truth to stop the swarm of questions rising inside Jeno like bile.

“Will you tell me one day?”

“Tell you what?”

“Why you’ve left everything behind. Why you don’t have a home.”

Jaemin reaches out and brushes his hand over Jeno’s jaw, gently, like he’s something delicate. His fingers are warm and Jeno can’t help but lean into the touch. He craves it as soon as it leaves. Like the tide misses the pull of the moon.

“I’ll tell you,” Jaemin says, “as soon as I find the answer.”

“We’re going to Seoul.”

“ _Seoul_?” Even on the small screen of Jeno’s phone Hyuck’s surprise is evident.

Jaemin pushes into the picture. “Start small, then take a plane anywhere.”

“ _That's crazy_.”

Jeno chuckles. “That’s what I said, too.”

“You know what's crazy? Living your life in the same place without ever seeing the world. Do you want to grow old here without having seen _anything_ , Jeno?”

“Not really.”

_“You better take care of my boy, Na. I’ll find you anywhere to kick your ass, don’t think I wouldn’t.”_

Jaemin laughs. “I’ll protect him with my life.”

Hyuck squints his eyes at him, then wishes them all the best with another demand to send pictures before he hangs up.

“So.” Jaemin takes the phone from Jeno and places it on the floor, lazily smiling up at him. “We’re going to Seoul.”

“I guess we are.”

Jaemin takes his hand. His skin is dry and warm, and it fits into his own perfectly. Maybe this is fate, Jeno thinks. Fate taking him by the hand and pulling him out of his little safe bubble in the form of a boy from the other side of the world. The ocean is calling for him.

“I can show you the world,” Jaemin sings quietly. “Shining, shimmering, splendid…”

Jeno slaps his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

Jaemin just grins.

“The train ride is on me,” Jaemin says. “My gift to you for being my lovely company.”

Jaemin blows him a kiss but Jeno doesn’t blush this time, too hung up on the fact that Jaemin just clicked on ‘confirm reservation’ on train tickets to a city full of strangeness. He’s a little speechless.

It’s real now. This adventure. He’s doing this, with Jaemin, who he’s barely known for three weeks.

“You are very kind to an almost stranger,” Jeno says.

Jaemin smiles at him. “You’ve never felt like a stranger to me, Jeno.”

Things happen very quickly then. The whole plan almost falls apart because Jeno can’t find his passport but then he finally does, and Jaemin helps with the preparations.

 _It’s just Seoul_ , he tells himself but he still packs as if he’s leaving for longer. He’s not sure who he’s trying to convince anymore.

The ocean is calling his name.

By then, the entire village knows what’s going on. Jeno gets a lot of disapproving looks from the elders, but also good wishes and many questions. At least three neighbours tell him to send a postcard and Jeno hopes he’ll remember. It feels like no one believes that he’ll come back. He’s not sure if he does.

It’s the evening before they leave and they’re sitting in Jeno’s room. Tomorrow they’re taking the train from the town, five hours into a city with almost ten million faces.

Jeno already knows he won’t be able to sleep, nerves crawling up his veins like an army of ants. Jaemin, in comparison, looks calm, stretched out on Jeno’s futon with his arms crossed behind his head.

“There’s something you should know before we leave,” he says and Jeno looks at him. “The home you come back to will not be the same home you left behind. You'll change, you know? Travelling does that to you. Only come with me if you're sure about that.”

Just Seoul, he thinks. Seven days. What can happen? “I’m sure.”

Jaemin is still staring at him.

“Huh?”

“Do you want me to stay? I mean, tonight?” Jaemin asks. “You look a little… anxious.”

Jeno feels his ears heat up. “I, uh… would you?”

Jaemin sits up and crosses his legs, leaning into Jeno’s space. “This is now a sleepover, sweetheart. Get into your cosiest sleep clothes and then sit next to me and tell me a secret.”

“A… secret?”

Jaemin gestures for him to sit down and they shuffle around until they sit with their backs against the wall, Jeno’s blanket thrown over their legs, shoulders pressed together.

“Want me to start?”

Jeno looks at him. “Why are we sharing secrets? Shouldn’t we talk about Seoul?”

Jaemin shakes his head, gently shushing Jeno. “It’s three am. The world doesn’t exist. Only we do. Us, and our secrets, and the stars are asking for them. A secret for a blessing. Don’t you want to be blessed, Jeno?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“So I’ll start.” Jaemin smiles. “This is my secret: I don't belong. I never feel home anywhere. I always have to move and leave things behind and go find new places and it's tiring but I just have to.”

“Are you looking for a place that feels like home?” Jeno asks. “Or are you looking for enough places that don’t to realise you had one all along?”

“I don't know what I'm looking for. I just hope that I'll find it anyway.”

“A seeker.”

“Exactly. Anyway, it’s your turn. Tell me a secret.”

Jeno thinks about it. He tries to live his life honestly so he doesn’t have many secrets but words are pressing against his tongue, words that have no business being anywhere near Jaemin. _My secret is: I think your laughter is a love letter to the sun_.

“I’m scared of cicadas.”

“That’s not a secret.”

“But I am! And I grew up in a _village_!”

“ _Everyone_ is scared of cicadas. Tell me another one.”

_My secret is –_

“Um…”

_My secret –_

“Come on, there must be something.”

_This is my secret: I’m made of the same stardust as you and that’s why I have to follow you._

“Um. I used to be completely obsessed with dinosaurs. Like, I knew everything about them and they were all I talked about. I’m pretty sure I still know all the Latin names…”

Jaemin laughs. “That’s a memory, not a secret. But I’ll let you off just this once.”

The hidden promise prickles on Jeno’s skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think about this. Kudos and comments are always appreciated <3 
> 
> I will try to update regularly but we all know life just happens sometimes~
> 
> here's a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2GEgmh9kBamvijNwyKlamU) (since the writing process is ongoing it's due to expand) 
> 
> talk to me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ki_jaemjen)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ki_jaemin)


	2. Seoul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ✈Seoul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello and welcome back!!
> 
> here are some songs: 
> 
> line of sight - odesza  
> where you wanna be - charles william  
> good life - onerepublic  
> hold your breath - chase atlantic 
> 
> enjoy!

_“Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone’s hand is the beginning of a journey. At other times, it is allowing another to take yours.” – Vera Nazarian_

They arrive at Seoul Station at some point in the afternoon. Jeno has napped himself tired but he’s nervous, too, overwhelmed by the onslaught of noise and colour and _people_.

So many people.

It’s crazy. Seoul Station consists of a huge arrival hall and a network of escalators that transport crowds of people to the underground stops underneath the building. There are information desks, eateries, fast food restaurants, announcements being made, people hurrying from A to B, trying to catch trains. Jeno’s heart beats wildly in his chest just from watching but Jaemin keeps a hand on his arm, gently pulling him along without letting him get lost.

Jeno would be absolutely useless if he had to help Jaemin find their accommodation but he doesn’t. Jaemin grabs Jeno by the sleeve and drags him along while Jeno stares at neon billboards, at streets with six lanes, listens to the chaotic noise of a city that has too many things going on at once.

Jaemin pushes him into a bus, hoisting his backpack up, and taps Jeno’s shoulder. “You good?”

“This is crazy,” Jeno says weakly. He’s never seen so many… people, cars, houses. Everything he knows is from movies and pictures but those don’t compare to the real thing, when your senses actually have to come to terms with that sudden change. It’s deafening in many ways.

Jaemin grins. “Welcome to the big wide world.”

They get off the bus ten minutes later and find the right street, the right building. The hostel they’re going to stay in is cute, pastel-coloured and narrow, their six-bed room empty when they come in to drop their luggage off. They take a short rest and Jeno wouldn’t mind sleeping until the next day but Jaemin tugs him back outside for dinner.

Seoul is huge and loud and disorienting. In the dark it looks completely different than during daylight and Jeno is glad he has Jaemin by his side to not get lost in the packs of people and the jumble of neon signs.

There are so many lights. Like a piece of night nestled itself between the hills. Stars stacked on top of each other to form high-rise buildings. It's a clash of culture and technology, tradition and progress, and it’s oddly fascinating.

They decide to visit a market. Jaemin tells Jeno what it’s called but Jeno is already too distracted by the food stands to listen properly.

There are so many different smells and offers that it’s hard to decide what he wants to eat. They share a portion of fishcakes, of grilled prawns and ttoekbokki, of egg bread, honey-glazed sweet potatoes, and even a little bit of beef with glass noodles. On a whim Jaemin buys a box of strawberries and offers them to Jeno, who takes a few.

After that they just walk. The streets are still full even though it’s getting late but Jeno doesn’t feel unsafe. He isn’t sure if it’s because everyone keeps to their own business or because he has Jaemin with him. Perhaps both.

When they get back to their hostel there’s another person bundled up on one of the bunks but apparently asleep. Jeno and Jaemin get ready for bed quietly, Jaemin following him into the bathroom.

“You like the lights, don't you?” Jaemin asks, holding his toothbrush under the tap. 

Jeno nods. “I think I do.”

“What else do you like here?”

Jeno thinks about that. “That there’s so much amazing food everywhere.”

Jaemin laughs. “What else?”

 _That you’re here with me_. His gaze catches on Jaemin’s in the mirror and Jeno feels his secrets press against the surface. Jaemin makes him want to spill them all, but he doesn’t. “I haven’t seen that much.”

“But you don’t regret coming with me yet, do you?”

Jeno shakes his head and Jaemin hums contently.

Jeno calls Jisung on their second day here. Again he’s reluctant, like Jaemin is a secret, something Jeno wants to keep to himself, but he isn’t and he can’t, so he calls anyway. Jisung is appropriately surprised but agrees to meet them for lunch near the shopping quarter of Seoul.

“There’s a non-tourist side of Seoul?” Jeno asks as he follows Jaemin on the escalators underground.

“We’re going to Gangnam tomorrow and then you’ll see what I mean.”

“And today?”

“We’re going shopping now, then we’ll meet your friend, then maybe a museum.” Jaemin smiles happily. “Then we’ll watch the sunset from the Namsan Tower.”

“Busy.”

“Would you rather we sit around all day? I said I would show you the world but if it’s only Seoul, then I shall do that.”

Jeno laughs. “Alright.”

Myeongdong, Jeno learns, is full of alleys and shops and people. He’s exhausted after just half an hour of walking around while Jaemin seems to thrive on the environment, dragging Jeno into shops and more side streets with never-ending energy.

Jeno is about to speak up when Jaemin pauses.

“This isn’t fun for you, is it?” Jaemin asks.

Jeno shrugs apologetically. “Sorry. Introvert here.”

“That’s alright. Want to get ice cream instead?”

That’s what they do. It’s not really warm enough for ice cream but Jeno can never say no to it, especially not when it’s shaped like a rose and tastes like cherry and vanilla. They sit outside of the shop on tiny wobbly plastic chairs, watching the people rush by in an endless slur of colours and noise.

“How can you do this for months?” Jeno asks. “Going from country to country without going nuts?”

They’ve been quiet for a while and Jaemin looks up from his half-eaten waffle cone. “Because I go nuts when I stay in one place for too long.”

“But – _why_?”

Jaemin laughs. “Oh, Jeno, I wish I knew.”

Quiet again, or as quiet as it gets here, in the middle of the pedestrian zone. The buildings are looming over them, caging out the clear sky. It would be easy to feel trapped here, Jeno thinks.

“I hope you find a place someday,” he says quietly. “One that makes you feel at peace.”

Jaemin looks at him from across the table, one corner of his mouth pulled up. “Thank you. I hope you find what you’re looking for, too. Or maybe even what you weren’t looking for.”

 _Well, I wasn’t looking for you, either,_ Jeno almost says but something drips on his hand and he realises his ice cream is melting.

Jeno is not sure who regrets bringing Jaemin more: he or Jisung. As soon as Jaemin finds out that Jisung is in fact, two years younger than him Jaemin treats him like a puppy or a baby, or something in between. Cheeks are pinched, shoulders are hugged, and Jaemin’s disregard of personal space is even clearer. Jeno shoots Jisung apologetic glances.

It’s only understandable that Jisung refuses to sit next to Jaemin when they find a fried chicken place, instead sliding into the seat opposite of them.

A part of Jeno can relate to Jaemin, though. In the year in which Jeno hasn’t seen Jisung he’s shot up like a beanpole, towering over the both of them, and he’s filled out a little. He’s not the awkward gangly boy that left his native village behind for school. He moves confidently and despite his initial shyness towards Jaemin he thaws much quicker than he used to. A self-made city man.

“I would never have thought Jeno would leave home, like ever,” Jisung’s saying now, putting down another chicken bone. Jeno absently wonders if they should have ordered more and secures himself another drumstick just in case.

“Maybe he didn’t have the right motivation before,” Jaemin replies.

Jisung raises his eyebrows and looks at Jeno. “And now he has?”

Jeno shrugs. “The timing was right.”

He can’t very well say, ‘I found someone who knows me without knowing me, and I want that someone on my path for a little while longer.’ Not even if that would be the truth.

“And you’re telling me you’ve only known each other for about a month,” Jisung questions, gesturing between the two of them.

“I didn’t kidnap him, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jaemin says.

“That’s not it, it’s just… nothing.”

“Spill it,” Jeno demands.

Jisung pulls his shoulders up. Maybe some of his awkwardness is left after all. “It’s just that you don’t seem like people who’ve only just met. Especially because Jeno is, well, Jeno.”

“You haven’t actually hung out with me in like a year, Sungie,” Jeno reminds him. He knows his ears are red. “Maybe I’ve changed.”

“Oh?” Jaemin leans across the table, curious. “Tell me what the old Jeno was like.”

The old Jeno was shy, Jeno thinks. He was reluctant, too scared of change to even move to the town for university. Too scared to _be_ changed. Too attached to the hills and fields and his family. No incentive to leave.

“Boring,” Jisung deadpans and Jaemin laughs. “He was extremely boring and no fun at all.”

They hang out for a while and wander the streets of Seoul before Jisung says goodbye. Jeno hugs him since he doesn’t know when he’ll see him again and Jisung tries to push him but doesn’t try hard enough. He even lets Jaemin hug him, too.

“That was nice,” Jaemin says when Jisung has disappeared in the crowd. “I like that kid.”

“I noticed. He noticed. I think everyone who’s seen us today has noticed,” Jeno says drily.

Jaemin laughs brightly and hooks his hand into the crook of Jeno’s elbow to pull him along. “He’s cute, I couldn’t help it. Anyways. Next stop: Namsan.”

Instead of taking the cable car, Jeno talks Jaemin into hiking up the mountain, arguing that they have enough time before sunset and walking is good for them. Jaemin agrees easily enough.

The path leads them through a bright forest, across some stones, a dried stream bed. Jaemin takes pictures of the sparse flowers and they take a short break when they find a bench, but otherwise it’s not as exhausting as Jeno assumed. The air is fresher here, too, a stark relief from the polluted air in the city centre.

And then there’s the view.

Jeno has been on mountains before, don’t get him wrong. But the view from those was over smaller mountains and fields and not a jungle of high-rise buildings and streets. There are just so many of them, spreading in every direction, angular shapes and forms, the noise of it all muted through fog and distance.

It’s beautiful. Strange and new and stunning.

“Are you tearing up, rookie?” Jaemin teases and nudges Jeno in the side. “Wait until we’re in the tower.”

Jeno tries to get it together and follows Jaemin up the stairs to the platform.

They take the elevator up and step out onto a circular platform with walls made of glass. It’s a little crowded here, tourists from all over the world trying to take pictures and flogging to the little souvenir stands but Jeno is barely aware of them.

The view is breathtaking. Jeno has never been this high up and it makes adrenaline spike in his blood when he walks closer to the glass.

The city spreads out so far. The sun hasn’t set yet, still touches the buildings and washes out the grey into off-white instead, and Jeno gets a sense of just how big Seoul is. How big the world must be. How much he’s missing out on by never leaving home. 

He almost forgets that he’s here with Jaemin. He wanders around the wall, taking in the view from every new angle, and snaps a few pictures to send to his family later. The sun is hanging low in the sky now and the city is slowly starting to glisten with its multi-coloured lights.

Eventually Jeno drags his gaze away from the glass walls and explores the inside of the platform. The shop up here sells souvenirs to horrendous prices but he buys a postcard for his mum anyway. Jaemin joins him at the till with a big blue heart-shaped lock.

“We should immortalise ourselves,” he tells Jeno. “Leave our mark on the world.”

“Or fall victim to cheesy touristic attractions,” Jeno gives back.

Jaemin pushes him a little. “Shut up. I thought you country people were naïve and traditional.”

“Not since we have access to the internet.”

“Fair enough. Come on, village boy.”

The railings are already full of locks of various colours, sizes and ages, and Jeno spends some time reading the names and messages on them as they try to find a spot for their own. So many stories. So many lovers. Jeno mildly wonders how many of them are still together. If they remember having left behind this lock with their names and a promise to each other. He likes to think some of these people are older now, sitting on their couch at home with their ankles crossed, and look back on this memory fondly.

“If we put it here it will always face the sunset,” Jaemin suggests.

They take turns writing on the blue heart. Jeno still thinks the price is ridiculous but at the same time it’s cute, knowing this message will stay here much longer than either of them will. Maybe not forever, but for a long time anyway.

In comparison to Jeno’s ‘thanks for gifting me this moment’, Jaemin’s message is much sweeter. ‘I was here with beautiful company to watch a beautiful sunset in a beautiful city. Thank you, Seoul, for the memories and the happiness,’ it reads. Jaemin adds today’s date, then hands the entire thing to Jeno to attach to the already overcrowded railing.

Jeno clicks the lock closed. He hopes Jaemin didn’t see what he scribbled on the back – ‘thank you for showing me the world, bright boy.’

They stay where they are to watch the sunset. It’s beautiful, how the sun turns the skyscrapers into silhouettes and they light up like an artificial night sky, windows and street lamps and spot lights. Meanwhile blue bleeds into orange, into red, into purple, until even the final rays of sun vanish behind concrete and mountain. The city glows below, an ocean of stars.

Jeno clears his throat. He didn’t realise they were silent for so long. “Want to head back?”

“Okay.” Jaemin pushes away from the railing and Jeno follows him through the small crowd. They take the cable car this time, back down to the city, and it’s a different kind of experience. A little like flying, both close to the ground and far from it, a ground that’s lit up with hundreds of lights and then dark expanses of where the forest hugs the side of the mountain.

They make a quick stop at a convenience store, too tired to care much about what they eat, just wanting to go to sleep, really. With the daylight gone and the city lights pricking Jeno’s eyes, he feels the exhaustion sink into his bones.

“You should hang out with Jisung again,” Jaemin says as they walk up the street to the hostel. “You know, just you two.”

Jeno glances at him. “What about you?”

Jaemin chuckles and puts his arm around Jeno’s shoulders. “I’m used to being alone.”

“But still…”

“It’s okay. Look, I can tell you missed him. He must have missed you, too. Ask him if he wants to hang out and if he does, I’ll find myself something else to do.”

The prospect of hanging out with Jisung again is pretty nice, actually. Even if that means spending some time without Jaemin. “Okay…”

They walk the rest in silence. Jaemin is about to reach for the door when Jeno snags his sleeve and holds him back.

“Jaemin?”

Jaemin turns to look at him. “Hmm?”

“Thank you for today.” Jeno can’t hold his eye contact, so he looks at Jaemin’s hands instead, one on the door, one playing with the key card for their dorm.

“Don’t thank me; thank Seoul.”

“I’m thanking you, though.”

“Well. You’re very welcome, Jeno.” Jaemin smiles and opens his arms. Before Jeno can react Jaemin is hugging him. He wraps his arms around Jaemin’s waist tentatively.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Jaemin says quietly. “I know it’s not an easy thing for you.”

“I think it was time.” Jeno pulls back and pushes the door open. “And now it’s time to sleep.”

Jisung agrees to hang out again. Jaemin helps Jeno figure out the directions before they part ways.

“What will you be doing?” Jeno asks as he gets ready to leave but all Jaemin says is, “Exploring.”

Jisung picks him up at the bus station which is probably a good thing because Jeno is still a little overwhelmed by the amount of people and transportation. They go to the university that Jisung attends, wander over campus and browse through the gigantic library. Jisung asks him about their friends, about Hyuck, about his family – Jeno asks him about his new friends, how life is here, if he’s happy.

It’s nice to catch up. Jisung is both different and the same – the same strange guy who still treats Jeno like he’s the older one, still just a kid who gets over-excited while playing games. But he’s so _tall_ now. So much more mature. He does his own laundry, cooks his own ramen, made friends all by himself. Jeno feels weirdly proud, like this is his actual younger brother. With the way they grew up, it’s not that far-fetched.

Eventually they sit in Jisung’s tiny dorm room. It’s just a wardrobe, really, big enough for a bed and a desk. Jisung has clothes piled everywhere, video games and books stacked on top of each other, snack wrappings spilling over the bin. There are a bunch of pictures tacked to a pin board on his desk; Jeno spots a lot of people he doesn’t know but also Jisung’s parents, and then a picture from two years ago, with Jeno and Hyuck framing Jisung. It makes him feel warm inside.

“Are you still thinking about going to uni?” Jisung asks.

Jeno shrugs. “I don’t know.” He really doesn’t. Leaving home to see a big city for a week is different than leaving for an entire semester, leaving behind everything he knows. Seeing campus and the variety of students on it wakes the yearning in him again, his desire to have something like this, but he’s not sure if it’s strong enough to make him leave.

“I think it’s a good experience,” Jisung says. “It’s not like you have to go this far away.”

“I kind of want to. But at the same time, I’m not sure. Am I not too old to study now?”

Jisung laughs. “You’re twenty-one.”

“It would be weird.”

“It wouldn’t.”

“I’ll think about it some more.”

They’re quiet again, the only noise Jisung crunching on some snack he found on his bed. Jeno inspects the pictures a little more closely. There are reoccurring faces of people Jeno assumes are Jisung’s friends here, most prominent a young-looking boy with a bright smile and nice teeth. There is one picture of just him and Jisung, cheek to cheek, laughing. It’s cute.

“Who’s this?” Jeno asks, pointing.

“Hm?” Jisung looks up. “Oh, that’s Chenle. My boyfriend.”

Jeno almost falls off his chair with how fast he swivels around. “You have a boyfriend?!”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Don’t act so surprised. You get to know a lot of people at uni.”

“I didn’t even know – I thought you were straight.”

“Hardly anyone is straight in this day and age, Jeno.” Jisung snorts. “You can’t tell me _you_ are.”

Jeno deliberately ignores that. “Tell me more about this Chenle guy.”

It takes some more prodding but Jisung eventually tells him the story. Chenle is an international student from China and he studies music composition and theory. They met each other in Fresher’s week, at an icebreaker event. Jisung was having a minor breakdown because he was too shy to talk to his course mates and Chenle, ever the extrovert, happened to notice. Next thing he knew, they were best friends. And then, Jisung says, a few months later they were a little more than that. That’s all.

“God, that’s adorable,” Jeno says, resting his chin on his arms.

Jisung grins. “Maybe he’ll swing by later for lunch and you can meet him.”

“That’d be nice.”

“You can tell Jaemin to come here too, if you want.” Jisung leans back and crosses his arms. “Speaking of which. What’s his deal?”

Jeno frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you don’t follow just _anyone_ to a city you’ve never been to. Especially not when you’ve only known that person for a month. And yet here you are, heart eyes and all.”

“ _Heart eyes_?”

“You can’t look at him like that and then try to tell me you don’t like him. He looks at you like that, too.”

“Like what? And I haven’t known him for very long! I don’t –”

“Look, I’m just saying from the point of view of an outsider, you two look like people who have something going on but try very hard not to do anything about it.”

Jeno grumbles. “There’s nothing going on. And there won’t be because I’m going home in like three days and he’s going – I don’t know. Far away.”

The thought aches.

“Trying _very_ hard,” Jisung whispers.

Jeno groans and throws a pack of tissues at him. “Brat. I don’t even think of him that way.”

“Sure you don’t.” Jisung hugs his pillow and laughs. “You can lie to yourself but not to me.”

Chenle does swing by later, bringing along three plastic bags full of takeaway. He turns out to be extremely loud and he somehow makes Jisung a whipped mess which endlessly amuses Jeno. For the bigger part of the afternoon he sits in the cramped space of Jisung’s room which is definitely at its maximum capacity with three people inside, and listens to their bickering.

He had texted Jaemin, asking if he wants to stop by, but he’d declined which Jeno is honestly glad about. He doesn’t want to give Jisung any more fuel. He does agree to pick Jeno up at the bus station, though.

“Now that you’ve stopped being a coward you have to promise to come visit me again,” Jisung insists when Jeno is about to leave. “Bring Hyuck next time.”

“I’ll try,” Jeno replies and hugs Jisung again.

Chenle grins and hugs him, too. “It was nice meeting you.”

Jeno bids goodbye and gets on his way.

Jaemin is indeed waiting at the bus stop, leaning against the metal railing. He smiles at Jeno as soon as he spots him and Jeno feels himself settle, like relief, like he’s missed him already.

“How was it?” Jaemin asks and casually slides one hand into the crook of Jeno’s elbow. Jeno notices he has blue paint on his fingers, like he’s played with ink.

“Great!” Jeno replies. “I met Jisung’s boyfriend and we had takeaway. It was fun. What were you up to?”

“Wandered a little. I found this little café where a bunch of older people were having an art workshop and I just joined them.”

“You’re really easy with people, huh?”

Jaemin shrugs. “With the right ones.”

Jeno wonders if that means more than he’s saying but he doesn’t ask.

“Hey,” Jaemin says. “How do you feel about having pork belly for dinner?”

“Oh God, yes, please.”

In a lot of ways, this feels like a date, or at least what Jeno imagines a date must be like. He sits opposite of Jaemin, who’s in control of grilling the meat, and they keep catching each other’s glances. Jaemin gives Jeno the best pieces and then, when Jaemin isn’t looking, Jeno puts some of them back on Jaemin’s plate. But then Jaemin does catch him and they end up battling each other with their metal chopsticks, giggling like twelve-year-olds.

Jeno has to consciously remind himself that they’re just friends. That it’s all they will ever be – all they _can_ be, because in a few days Jeno is going back home and Jaemin isn’t coming with him.

“What are you thinking about?” Jaemin asks.

For a moment Jeno wonders what would happen if he told the truth. _I’m thinking about how I’m never going to have enough time with you_.

“The absolute amazingness of this food,” Jeno says instead. It’s not technically a lie.

“It’s good, right?” Jaemin groans and flips a strip of meat. “I wish London had more proper Korean places to eat at.”

Jeno looks up. “London?”

“Did I not tell you? That’s where my family lives.”

 _That’s where my family lives_. Not _that’s where I’m from_ , or _that’s home_.

“That’s… quite far away.”

Jaemin meets his eyes and Jeno thinks he understands all the things he isn’t saying.

“Yeah, well. I’m not going to head back there yet,” Jaemin replies.

“Then where are you headed?”

“China, probably.”

“Oh.”

They eat in silence for a while. Jeno wonders if Jaemin wants Jeno to come with him, then asks himself if _he_ wants to.

It’s a crazy idea, to travel to a foreign country without being prepared for it, except it’s not crazy at all because Jaemin would be there. Jaemin has experience; he has a level-headed sort of confidence that never fails to make Jeno feel safe, and he understands Jeno in a way no one else has before.

It seems surreal that in a few days they might have to say goodbye to each other and go back to their respective lives. Would Jeno regret going back home? Would he regret _not_ going home? Would they stay in contact or slowly forget each other until Jaemin is nothing but a fond memory and a desperate wish? Nothing but a maybe?

The goodbye is unavoidable, Jeno knows. It’s a question of _when_ rather than _if_.

“Lee Jeno.”

Jeno lifts his head to find Jaemin looking at him with a curious glint in his eyes. “What?”

“I was asking you if we should order more rice.”

“If I eat any more I’ll fall into a food coma.”

Jaemin laughs, pearly whites on full display, and Jeno’s heart lurches in his chest.

It’s hard to say goodbye to someone whose mere laugh feels like sunlight.

The next few days in Seoul are a rush of colour.

They visit Bukchon Hanok village to see the traditional Korean houses and enjoy the scenery. Jeno buys rice cakes filled with red bean paste that are so sticky he isn’t sure he’ll ever get the dough off his hands. When he tells Jaemin this, Jaemin smirks and offers to suck it off of his fingers and Jeno is so flustered he can’t say anything for five minutes.

They see so many places Jeno has trouble remembering the names. Lotte World Tower and a mall so huge Jeno is immediately exhausted. A 4D cinema where they watch an animation movie. Insadong’s colourful streets where Jeno buys souvenirs for his family. The Palace, a museum, K-Star Road, Hongdae with upcoming idols busking on the street.

Every day is filled with snapshots of their new memories, some tangible and some not: a strip of printed photos they took in a cute photo booth, goofy filters covering their faces. The last cherry blossoms falling like pastel-pink snow, floating on the surface of the lake that surrounds Lotte World. Various dishes of varying cuisines and always, always different versions of Jaemin’s brilliant smile.

Jeno is dead tired every night, exhausted from all the new experiences, but he finds he likes it that way. There are many images he’s fond of, many stories to tell his family when he’s back home. The one about how they took the wrong bus when they were both too tired to pay attention and ended up on the wrong side of the city. The day when Jaemin introduced Jeno to his usual Starbucks order and Jeno honestly thought Jaemin had decided to poison him, and Jaemin actually got offended. The one time where a small group of tourists asked them for restaurant recommendations and they all ended up having dinner together.

By day seven, they sit in a little café, Jaemin sipping his second Americano of Death while Jeno himself is still nursing his latte. Time passed so fast; he’s not sure how they ended up here so soon, checked out of their hostel with only a few hours left before Jeno’s train leaves.

Jeno is thinking about home. About the passport in his bag, all the possibilities he might miss by not using it. He’s thinking about Jaemin stepping into a plane that will take him too far away, will take him out of reach. It feels impossible – the thought that maybe today is the last day that Jeno will ever see him.

This boy.

Jaemin seems like he holds Jeno’s future in the palms of his hands. A small universe full of possibilities. A collection of what ifs. Jeno doesn’t want to stop dreaming yet, but he doesn’t know how to ask.

Jaemin is made of the same stuff as he is, though.

“There’s a cheap flight to Hong Kong tonight,” he tells Jeno with a careful shimmer of hope in his eyes. “You in or out?”

Hong Kong. China. It’s not _that_ far away, right? At least then he’d be able to say he’s been abroad. He’ll be able to stay with Jaemin for a little while longer. He’s not going to stay there for very long anyway, maybe just another week.

“In,” Jeno says and Jaemin smiles.

It all happens so fast. Flights are booked and then they start hunting for affordable short-notice accommodation that’s not on the outskirts of the city. Jeno is giddy with elation and excitement, leaning over his phone and searching up hostels even though he’s not sure what to look for.

“Question,” Jaemin says and glances up from his own research. “Are you okay with sleeping in one bed? Hong Kong is kind of expensive but I found a pretty central AirBnB, though we’d have to share.”

“Uh.” Jeno barely lets himself think about it. “That’s fine. We should book it.”

It’s Jaemin. It’s always going to be fine with him.

Jeno has never flown before. Has never even been to an airport. Incheon is big and much prettier than expected and it’s bustling and Jeno is a little worried when he gets separated from Jaemin at security. But Jaemin is already waiting for him on the other side and things go well and then they're suddenly in the plane.

Jeno isn't scared of heights as far as he knows. But there's a difference between climbing on the roof of his house or standing in a tower and being thousands of feet above the ground in a fat metal box that’s hurtling across an infinite sky.

“You okay?”

Jeno turns his gaze from the little window to Jaemin. Both of them are too tall for these economy seats, legs crammed into the small space they have, and Jeno is glad they're only flying for about four hours. He’s checked his seatbelt about ten times, as if it would really keep him safe in case of a serious problem, but he does it again, just to be sure. “Yeah.”

Jaemin places his hand on the armrest, palm up, just as the engines start to push, the momentum pressing Jeno back into the seat. “Hold on if you need to.”

The plane picks up speed and picks up and picks up –

Jeno slides his hand into Jaemin’s just as the plane lifts off the tarmac. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! As always, kudos and comments are much appreciated
> 
> some people have left me song recs and i LOVE it so if you have any songs that come to mind while reading this pls feel free to share them in the comments, on twt or in my cc <3 
> 
> find me here  
> my [twitter](https://twitter.com/ki_jaemjen)  
> my [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ki_jaemin)


	3. Hong Kong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ICN ✈ HKG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi yes here's a new chapter! 
> 
> tw for anxiety/a panic attack
> 
> songs: 
> 
> burning bridges - onerepublic  
> silence - marshmellow, illenium  
> what we started - don diablo, steve aoki  
> scared - jeremy zucker  
> know me - the band camino

_“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places.” – Roald Dahl_

“It wasn't as scary as I thought,” Jeno gushes as he follows Jaemin through the ‘nothing to declare’ sliding doors of Hong Kong International Airport. “It was actually pretty fun! I'm looking forward to doing this again. The world is _huge_ if you see it from above.”

It is. Most of the four hours Jeno spent glued to the window, watching the clouds and the lands below. Everything seemed both small and vast – cities and mountains and fields sized down to tiny models and structures, pieces of the massive puzzle that is the world, suggesting a sense of scale. All the places Jeno has never been to, will probably never see again like this.

Jaemin laughs and briefly squeezes Jeno’s hand. “Good. You'll do it often enough.”

Hong Kong is big and rainy. Marking the beginning of typhoon season, late May is humid and wet, and Jaemin buys them an umbrella to share before they catch the express train into the city.

It’s already late. Jaemin tells him Hong Kong is noticeably smaller than Seoul but to Jeno it still feels huge. There are just as many lights as there were in Seoul and even though they’re blurry and far away through the wet train window, they are still pretty, glistening like he’s looking through a kaleidoscope.

Jeno actually forgot about sharing a bed with Jaemin until he’s confronted with their little AirBnb room. It’s pretty small and minimalistic, but decent enough. Two walls are green, the others white, with a houseplant on the short window sill and a shelf full of books in various languages in the corner. The wardrobe, a small desk, and the bed fill the rest of the space. Their host shows them the control for the air-con, then wishes them a good night.

“I told our host we’re brothers to make this less awkward,” Jaemin says casually as he digs his PJs out of his backpack. “So just pretend your last name is Na.”

Jeno thinks this might actually make it _more_ awkward, at least for him. He definitely doesn’t think about Jaemin as a brother.

Jeno isn’t sure what exactly Jaemin is to him. He just knows that when he looks at him he feels warmer than before. Safer. He feels like everything is going to be better with Jaemin there. When Jaemin smiles at him something inside Jeno unravels.

But what is he to Jaemin?

“Do you want to shower first?” Jaemin asks.

“Yeah.” Jeno quickly grabs his stuff and escapes.

Sharing a bed with Jaemin is a little weird at first. The bed is not small, but it doesn’t seem to be meant for two people either, and Jeno lies down on his side, facing away from Jaemin. He’s hyperaware of his presence, like Jaemin’s body is radiating some kind of shockwaves and he doesn’t want to intrude his personal space, which is weird because it’s _Jaemin_. It’s hard to relax like this, even though he’s dead tired already.

Jaemin must have picked up on his insecurity. He prods his finger into Jeno’s shoulder and asks, “Are you uncomfortable sleeping here?”

Jeno sighs and rolls onto his back. “I’m just not used to sharing.”

“That’s alright. You’ll get used to it.” The sheets rustle and Jaemin exhales, right next to Jeno’s face now. “It’s just me.”

“Just you.”

“Remember when I slept over at yours? Right before we left for Seoul?”

Jeno remembers. Somehow it wasn’t a big deal back then. It’s actually only been about a week but Jeno has seen so many new things since then that it feels like it happened a lifetime ago.

“What are your thoughts on cuddling?”

Jeno freezes. “What?”

“Never mind.” Jaemin laughs quietly. “You’re not ready.”

Perhaps that’s true. Then again, this is Jaemin, who hugs Jeno any chance he gets, who kissed him on the cheek before they really knew each other. Jeno often thinks Jaemin recharges his energy through touch. It shouldn’t be awkward to sleep next to him now when he’s always seeking closeness anyways.

“If you keep thinking this loudly none of us will get any sleep,” Jaemin teases.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Jeno feels Jaemin’s hand trail down his arm before he intertwines their fingers.

“It’s okay,” Jaemin whispers. “Do you want to hear a secret?”

“I’m starting to think you have a thing for secrets.”

Jaemin snorts. “Maybe I do. Anyways. Here’s a secret: the night used to make me want to run away. Since always, really. Sometimes as a kid I’d pack my bags and sneak out and then when I’d walked down the road the fears would kick in and I’d go back. But that feeling never left me. Of having to leave.”

It seems like a big secret, being shared at night in a strange country, spoken so quietly that Jeno feels it more than hears it. “Is that why you’re here now? Because the night made you leave?”

“Maybe. I think it just means that I was born to search, not to settle.”

“We’re polar opposites then.”

“Are we really? You’re here now, too, aren’t you?”

“Hm. I guess I am.”

A part of Jeno wants to share a secret, too. He has so many of them now: _I’m scared to lose you, I don’t know where I really belong anymore, I think I need you in my life but I don’t know how to keep you_.

He doesn’t say any of them. He exhales, says, “I’m sleepy,” and replies to Jaemin’s “goodnight” with a hum.

When he feels the press of lips against the back of his hand he’s not sure if he’s dreaming or still awake.

“There’s a tram going up to Victoria Peak,” Jaemin tells Jeno the next morning. They’ve just finished breakfast – wonton soup – and are trying to plan the day. “The weather is alright, so maybe we could do that?”

The weather is indeed alright. It’s warm and humid, grey clouds covering most of the sky, but it doesn’t rain. “Yeah, sure.”

The queue is already quite long when they arrive after getting their tickets but they are lucky enough to get seats anyway. Jeno is glad they did – the small train cabin is crowded with people standing in the aisle, swaying slightly when the tram jerks into motion.

The train crawls up the hill at a surprisingly steep angle. The view of trees and houses clears with increasing height and eventually shows the city, covered in smog like someone’s put a photo filter over the entire scenery, saturation turned low. It’s a concrete jungle, full of angles and edges, and Jeno finds it fascinating that all these skyscrapers are manmade.

“You’re so adorable, Jeno,” Jaemin remarks and Jeno turns away from the window to look at him.

“Huh?”

“Your feelings show on your face sometimes,” Jaemin explains. “You look like cities are a miracle to you.”

Jeno feels slightly flustered. “Can you blame me? I’ll never get used to them.”

“I’m not blaming you. I’m telling you it’s sweet. Do you like cities?”

“I like certain things about them. But I don’t think I could live in one. What about you?”

“I like cities,” Jaemin says and his eyes glint. “But I like it anywhere as long as you’re with me.”

Jeno groans and stares out of the window again.

It takes only about eight minutes before the tram stops and spits them out onto the platform along with the other tourists. They follow the signs through a shopping area and up the escalators until they are finally outside.

They walk around the platform and enjoy the view over the misty skyline of the city for a while. It reminds Jeno of Seoul – the same high-rises, the same greyscale, the same feeling of wonder. Of course the view differs in certain aspects but the similarity remains.

Jeno spots a few signs advertising the nature trails and calls Jaemin over, who was taking pictures at the edge of the platform.

“How about this one?” Jeno suggests and points out the Hong Kong Trail.

Jaemin narrows his eyes at the map and then at Jeno. “Of course you’d pick the longest one.”

“Nature is good for your soul.”

“You know what’s good for my soul? Coffee. Let’s get a snack first and then go on that trail.”

“I’m pretty sure the kind of coffee you drink indicates you have no s-”

“You better be nice about my coffee if you want me to go on that damn walk.”

They choose a café and eventually find two free seats somewhere in the middle of the room. Obviously all the popular spots by the windows are taken, much to Jaemin’s chagrin, but it’s comfortable enough with the cream-coloured walls and rustic interior. The view adds to the charm of the little café even when they’re sitting in the centre with families, couples, and tourist groups bustling around them.

Jaemin gets his nightmare caffeine order which Jeno had first come into contact with in Seoul and Jeno gets himself a milk tea and a pastry. Jaemin tries to steal a bit of it but Jeno slaps his hand away. “If you wanted food you should have bought yourself something.”

Jaemin pouts. “But we share everything.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Pretty please? Just one bite.”

“I’ve seen you take ‘just one bite’. It’s like half of this thing.” Jeno gives him a reproachful look and breaks off the corner of his pastry. “You can have this.”

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me to _starve_ ,” Jaemin whines and stuffs the piece in his mouth.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Just hungry.”

“Give me your money and I’ll buy you one of these.”

“It tastes better when it’s someone else’s.” Jaemin grins and tears another part off Jeno’s pastry.

Jeno gives up. There’s no point in fighting against Jaemin when he knows what he wants and how to get it, especially when Jeno has always been and always will be weak for him.

Central Hong Kong is loud; there is always some construction work going on somewhere, or cars honking, people and vehicles and music and more work. Jeno would be glad they’re only staying a week if that wouldn’t mean saying goodbye to Jaemin.

In contrast, the nature trails feel like a deep breath of spring air after having spent so much time in cities. Jeno loves it – the silence, the chirping of birds, the earthy scent of the trees and grasses, even the herbal humidity up here. It reminds him of home.

Jaemin is somewhere behind him, still cursing quietly as he’s stepped into a puddle a minute ago, and he’s really the only company Jeno wants here right now.

Jeno, pure introvert, had expected to start feeling smothered by Jaemin’s presence, or get tired of him eventually, but he doesn’t. Perhaps Jaemin is the one person Jeno could spend all his time with, if he had the chance.

The thing about being with someone 24/7 is that you can't really hide anything. Jeno was a little reserved at first back in Seoul, maybe a little shy because Jaemin tends to fluster him, but that's not how it works. He can't keep vanishing into the bathroom to change and he can't keep pretending he's a morning person and he can't keep his hair presentable at all times.

You can't hide the ugly bits when you're around each other all the time. Jaemin didn’t even try, clearly used to this, getting undressed in front of Jeno without shame. Since the start of this, Jeno has learnt that Jaemin is even less of a morning person than he is, that his breath smells just like anyone else's, and that he sneezes without covering his mouth.

Jeno doesn't mind these things. In fact, they encourage him to let his guard down. This is his travel companion and quite possibly the missing part of his soul, he reminds himself, not someone he has to impress.

But the thing about being with Jaemin 24/7 is that there’s no way for Jeno to escape his gravity.

Jaemin has always been captivating to Jeno but it’s a physical blow now, when Jeno gets to wake up next to him every day. He picks up on all his little mannerisms: the way Jaemin mindlessly chews on his lips until he breaks the skin, how he plays with his fingers or the zipper of his jacket when he’s overthinking something, the way he curls his feet sometimes when they’re sitting somewhere. He’s a somewhat slow walker which Jeno appreciates most of the time and he doesn’t shy away from physical closeness.

To an extent, Jaemin is good at hiding things, much better than Jeno is. In the weeks they’ve known each other Jeno got better at catching half-truths, avoided glances, and exaggerations.

But Jeno has also learnt that there’s one thing Jaemin never hides and it’s his fondness. Of the world around him. The people. Of Jeno.

It’s not that surprising, given Jaemin’s perpetual optimism and his willingness to see the best in people even when they’re strangers. But his affection for Jeno feels different – more significant, like something that runs deeper. Something that could be something else if either of them let it. It’s the same tug that Jeno felt when he first met Jaemin, that he feels every time he looks at Jaemin, except it’s growing into a monster now.

Jeno slows down his steps and waits until Jaemin catches up with him.

“This trail ruined my sneakers,” Jaemin whines without real heat. “I’m blaming you.”

“It’s your own fault for always wearing white.” Jeno lets their hands brush against each other and, with a look around, Jaemin gets the hint and intertwines their fingers. Jaemin’s skin is warm and comforting against his own and Jeno is starting to understand how nice it can be to be close to someone.

Maybe this thing between them can remain unnamed for a while longer. Maybe pretending will be good enough with just the trees and the sky as witnesses.

Maybe Jeno should never ever give it a name if he wants to return home with his heart intact.

Temple Street night market has all the touristic trinkets and souvenirs that Jeno expected but they pass those stands quickly, hoping to find a cheap dinner here in the form of Chinese street food. After the walk and the tram trip back down to the city, Jeno is exhausted and his feet hurt. It’s what fresh air does to you – it fills your bones with a satisfying kind of exhaustion. He can tell Jaemin feels the same with the way he drags his feet but his hand is securely clasped in Jaemin’s who’s pulling him through the crowd like he knows where he’s going.

“This smells like food,” Jeno says weakly, tugging on Jaemin as they pass yet another stand.

“Everything here smells like food,” Jaemin replies. “I’m not going to eat something too adventurous today.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know.” Jaemin pulls him further, away from the busy stands and into a side street. “Wait here and I’ll find us some food, okay?”

“But…”

“Do you trust me? Look, sit down and wait. I’ll go find some, I don’t know, skewers, and come back here. Use your phone if anything’s wrong. Okay?”

Jeno meets Jaemin’s gaze, warm even in the dim light of the street lamps, and nods. He does trust Jaemin, more than he should probably. It only occurs to him now – how dependent he is on Jaemin’s presence. “Okay.”

“Give me a minute.” Jaemin turns and vanishes back in the crowd.

Jeno sits down on the curb, watching the endless stream of people that push each other through the narrow space between the individual stands. So many faces. So many histories and stories. The place is buzzing and Jeno can hear people laughing and marvelling at the things that are being displayed. Vendors shout out prices and offers, attracting even more people.

It’s overwhelming to watch. After a while Jeno fishes his phone out of his pocket just to remember that the battery died on the last trip in the tram. It worries him a little; what if Jaemin tries to contact him? How much time has even passed since he left? Jeno can’t tell. He’s so _tired_.

The blur of people thickens and thins. Jeno begins to wonder if he should ask someone for the time but when he gets up and dips back into the crowd everyone seems so busy. Someone runs into his shoulder and he stumbles back, being flushed away by a throng of tourists.

“Excuse me,” he says in English but no one listens. There are so many people. Jeno tries not to lose sight of the alley, the meeting point, but he’s standing in the way and there’s so _many_ – “Excuse me, could you –”

“Yes?”

He comes face to face with a lady. She looks like a tourist, too, with a DSLR camera around her neck and a colourful flyer in her hand.

“Um,” Jeno stammers. “Could you, uh, what time –”

“Oh.” The lady shakes away the sleeve of her shirt to look at her watch. “It’s quarter to ten.”

“Thank you.” They bow to each other, then Jeno turns away and tries to fight his way back to the side street. Go straight, then right, then left. Simple as that.

By the time he’s finally escaped the crowd, feet trodden on and his apologies exhausted, he doesn’t know where he is.

_Don’t panic_ , Jeno tells himself. _Panicking is the least helpful reaction right now_.

He’s tracked his steps back to where he remembers meeting the woman, thinking he’d be able to find the alley again. As it turns out, there are a lot of alleys that look exactly the same to him and the more he searches the harder it is to figure out which one Jaemin left him in.

And Jaemin might be God knows where.

 _Don’t panic_.

Maybe if Jeno had taken one of Jaemin’s power-banks, he’d be fine. But he didn’t because even now he isn’t used to the necessity of being reachable at all times and it’s coming back to bite him in the ass now, with dread sinking into his bones.

He doesn’t even know if Jaemin turned left or right. He doesn’t know where the food stands are because everything smells like food and he doesn’t know how to ask people if they’ve seen Jaemin and this market is too huge and there’s too much noise and he doesn’t know where he _is_ –

 _Don’t panic_.

Jeno takes a breath. His heart is beating too hard in his chest, too fast for his lungs to catch up. He’s dizzy with all the sound and heat around him, the red paper lanterns of the stand he’s somehow ended up at, the furious colours of the countless tents –

He can’t _think_ like this, worry clouding his mind like the smog this city is filled with. He might as well be blind and he might as well be deaf. People are shouting but he can’t hear the words. All he can hear is the endless drum of his own heartbeat, the rush of his blood and the irregularity of his breath. His hands are shaking even when he grips the hem of his shirt.

 _Don’t panic_.

He could head back to the apartment. But what if Jaemin would search for him here? What if Jeno can’t find the way to the AirBnB by himself? He can’t even find his way back to a side street on a stupid market. Can’t even listen to Jaemin and stay where he was told to –

Jeno chokes on his own hitching breath. Everything’s blurring now and he can no longer tell if it’s because he’s about to cry or if he’s going to black out or what. The chaotic labyrinth of sensations is impossible for him to navigate and he _knows_ it, knows he’s lost, knows he won’t be able to find his way home –

“Jeno? Jeno!”

Jeno’s heart bursts; he knows that voice. He’d know it everywhere. He swivels around, trying to locate it, stands on the tips of his toes, finds him – Jaemin is pushing through the crowd, holding a plastic container of something in one hand, looking around with a deeply worried frown.

“Jeno?”

They make eye-contact almost immediately. Jeno feels like crying he’s so glad to see him, but Jaemin is glowering and looks just about ready to kill him as he fights through the last few people that are separating them.

“ _Lee_ _Jeno_!”

Jeno throws himself at Jaemin without caring about whether or not Jaemin can keep his grip on the food. The relief feels like a kick to the guts or maybe that’s the guilt, he can’t tell. All he cares about is Jaemin’s solid chest, the scent of him, his familiar presence. He’s found him. Of course Jaemin found him. He always does. Always will. Even when Jeno is the most stupid person in the world.

Jaemin pulls Jeno against him tightly with one arm and buries his face in his shoulder for a short moment. “Jeno, where _were_ you? You can’t just leave, you were supposed to wait! God, I thought I lost you!”

“I’m sorry, Jaemin, I just wanted to know what time it is –”

Jaemin pulls away but keeps his hand on Jeno’s nape as if he’s scared to lose him again. He looks worried, maybe even scared, and all the initial anger bleeds out of his features. “I’m sorry, Jen. I got held back by a bunch of merchants, I’m so sorry, I’m never going to leave you anywhere again.”

Jeno nods, not trusting his voice enough to work right now. His hands still haven’t stopped shaking and his chest hurts, like someone punched him in the sternum.

“Come on,” Jaemin says and threads his fingers through Jeno’s. “Hold on tight. I’ll get us out of here.”

And he does.

Jaemin finds them a bench and makes Jeno drink half a bottle of water.

“You look like a ghost,” he says and hands the plastic container to Jeno. It’s still warm.

Jeno isn’t particularly hungry anymore but he eats the food anyway, not really tasting anything but salt. He feels shaken, empty, like a desolate shell, and he barely has enough energy to lift the chopsticks to his mouth. The guilt just adds extra weight.

Eventually they just sit there, as close together as possible right now.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen,” Jeno says quietly.

“I’m sorry I left you there,” Jaemin replies.

“It would have been fine if I hadn’t been stupid.”

Jaemin sighs and sneaks his arms around Jeno’s middle, leaning his head on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I found you anyway, didn’t I? I’ll always find you.”

And somehow, given their entire history and circumstances, Jeno believes him.

Sharing a bed with Jaemin that night is easy, like Jeno already can't remember what it's like to sleep alone. He needs Jaemin’s calf pressed against his, the sound of his steady breathing. When he shuffles closer Jaemin takes the hint and wraps an arm around him, contently sighing into the crook of Jeno’s neck.

Jeno thinks about how empty his own bed will feel once he returns to it. He thinks about what would have happened if Jaemin hadn’t found him today.

Under the thin blanket, Jeno’s hand finds Jaemin’s. He’s not going to let go of it again.

In the following days Jeno learns that he’s not as fit as he believed himself to be. Hong Kong is built on a hill and that means there are a lot of stairs. Everywhere. All the time. Endlessly steep, some old, some new, uneven, crooked, and flat. Together with the thick humidity of the air and Jaemin’s need to see as many different places as possible, Jeno soon feels like he’s about to black out.

“Come on,” Jaemin motivates him from where he’s standing a few steps ahead now, just as breathless. “Stairs make your ass look great. I mean – actually, your ass already looks great enough, if I’m quite honest…”

Jeno doesn’t really care about what his ass looks like, trying to ignore the burn in his calves _and_ his cheeks. “Can we maybe do something chill after this?”

Jaemin grins down at him. “Don’t worry, I got you, sweetheart.”

Jaemin keeps his promises, Jeno thinks when they sit in the star ferry that’s bringing them across the bay to a different part of Hong Kong. He’s not exactly sure what they’re going to do there; Jaemin had told him but Jeno had been so distracted by the harbour and the water that he forgot to listen. He feels a little bad about it but to be fair, he’s never been on a ferry before. It doesn’t feel all that different from a bus, really.

Jeno feels a hand on his thigh and then the weight of Jaemin’s head resting on his shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks, putting his own hand on top of Jaemin’s.

Jaemin hums a yes. “I just like being close to you. It’s like… you’re my charger.”

Jeno smiles to himself and gives Jaemin’s hand a squeeze. Jaemin’s answers often fluster him but at the same time they’re so pure. Jeno isn’t worried about Jaemin lying to him; keeping things from him, perhaps, but it seems as if Jaemin has this constant need to let people know that he appreciates them. If he has something nice to say, he’ll say it. And he’ll mean it.

Jeno doesn’t think he’s ever met a person with a matching level of sincerity.

“Are you an extrovert?” he asks.

“Not really. I’m something in between.”

“So… an ambivert.”

Jaemin hums again. “I like being with people but sometimes I also like being by myself. And sometimes I like being alone with someone who isn’t exhausting. Like you. You’re the opposite of exhausting.”

“You’re not exhausting, either,” Jeno replies. _You’re the only person who isn’t draining to me_.

Jeno feels Jaemin smile into his shoulder. 

They spend the rest of the evening walking around and watch the daily lightshow that starts at eight. It stuns Jeno – the colourful laser beams, the LEDs, the flickering neon, and all of that every night. He doesn’t think he could get used to the spectacle’s vibrancy even if he lived here for a year.

Jaemin laughs at the disappointed drop of Jeno’s shoulders when the show ends after just ten minutes. “I knew you’d love the lights. You always do.”

Jeno doesn’t reply, just knocks his shoulder into Jaemin’s and takes his hand.

“Okay, I know we’re both avoiders,” Jaemin says one morning, “but I think we need to talk about where we’re going to after this.”

Jeno’s heart drops into his stomach like an anchor. Jaemin is right; they’re both good at tiptoeing around real problems, living in pretend bubbles. But bubbles burst. They only have a few days to go until the next crossroad.

Jeno has been trying really hard not to think about goodbyes. It’s harder with each morning that he wakes up with his legs pressed against Jaemin’s and the temptation is so strong – to say yes to just one more stop.

“I want you to commit,” Jaemin says quietly and leans forward to look at Jeno intently. “I want you to look at your funds and tell me how far you’re willing to go with me. I’ll help you out financially if you let me. And then we make a proper route, not this spontaneous stuff. I want to – I want you to – I don’t want you to go home, Jeno. I want you to stay with me for a bit longer. If you want that, too.”

 _I want to_ , Jeno thinks immediately without considering the rest. He’s just being honest with himself. He doesn’t want to go back home yet, no matter how much he misses his family, not when that means giving up being with Jaemin. Not yet.

Not yet.

Because the truth is, he’s never felt so alive. He’s never felt more like _himself_ , like he’s needed Jaemin to break him out of the mould and discover all the possible sides of him. And he wants to know _more_. Wants to know more about Jaemin, learn every single variation of his smile until he knows each by heart, wants to feel the glow in his chest when Jaemin laughs about something he said.

Jeno misses home. He misses his mother’s steady presence, his father’s enthusiastic ideas for woodwork, his sister’s biting remarks over meals. He misses the serenity of the village, the slowness of life there and the familiarity of it all.

Of course he misses home. But he knows he can’t give up on this adventure yet.

Sometimes Jeno thinks as long as it’s Jaemin asking, he’d always say yes.

“You obviously don’t have to,” Jaemin says softly. He’s looking down at his hands in his lap, eyelashes casting feathery shadows over his cheeks. He isn’t even trying to hide that he’d be sad if Jeno said no and it makes Jeno’s insides feel warm. “I don’t want to keep you away from home and I’m used to travelling alone, so… don’t feel pressured. I understand.”

Jeno reaches out and brushes his thumb over Jaemin’s cheekbone. Jaemin looks up, his expression somewhere between guarded neutrality and telling disappointment, like he’s already given up on the thought that Jeno might say yes.

“I’ve never been to Europe, you know,” Jeno says carefully.

Jaemin’s breathless smile is like the sun breaking through thick dark clouds. It’s an exceeded speed limit. It’s a plane hurtling down the runway, right at the brink of heaving itself into an endless cerulean sky. “I better get out my map.”

Since it’s raining anyway they spend the entire day inside researching the most efficient travel routes and calculating budgets.

Travelling can be expensive but that’s not really Jeno’s main concern. He’s been working since he graduated from high school, has saved money since before even that. What for, he's not sure. To build a house for the family he may or may not have one day? To go to university with Hyuck? To buy a car that would take him at least a little further away?

He doesn't really think much of it. Spending it on going out into the world with a boy he hasn’t known for that long sounds crazy, he’s aware, but the longer he thinks about it the more he wants it. And it’s with Jaemin, so.

Jeno isn’t sure anymore if he does this for the experience of travelling or just for Jaemin. He thinks he might know the answer and it scares him.

“I kind of really want to see Dubai,” Jaemin says now, scrolling on his phone.

Jeno frowns. “Dubai? Are you nuts?”

“What if we stay there for just a few days? It would also break up the long flight to Europe. And they have amazing beaches. I know you want to see the ocean.”

“Fine. But the accommodation better be cheap.”

Jaemin grins at him. Jeno has been meaning to ask how he manages to afford travelling around the world at twenty, but it feels inappropriate to ask somehow. It’s not like it really matters anyway.

But Jeno doesn’t even have to ask.

“My grandma loves me,” Jaemin says. “She made a trust fund of sorts for me, being an only child and all. That’s how I can afford my travels. I was actually meant to use it to like, invest in a house or go to a really good university, but like I said, she loves me, so she supports this, too.”

“Your grandma is really kind,” Jeno says gently.

“She would love you.” Jaemin snorts. “And then tell you you’re too skinny and feed you until you can’t walk anymore. So don’t feel bad about me paying for stuff.”

Jeno laughs. “Sounds lovely.”

“Maybe you’ll meet her one day.”

It’s too easy. Planning a getaway route with Jaemin. Perhaps because it feels so surreal – like this is just a dream or a game and at some point one of them will say ‘just kidding’ and they’ll both laugh away the disappointment.

But it _is_ real. It hits Jeno a few hours later when he opens the email with the flight confirmation to Bangkok. It’s real. He’s staying with Jaemin. He’s committing to this.

“I guess I should tell my parents,” Jeno muses quietly.

Jaemin nods. He’s stretched out on the floor, his shoulders leaning against the bed frame, eyes half closed. He looks like a content cat like this, all trusting and exposed now that he has what he wants. “Tell them I said hi.”

Jeno calls his mum. Tells her that Hong Kong is beautiful and noisy, that they’re headed to Thailand and then, after that, Bangladesh.

His mum begs him to come back and it’s hard to say no but he has to do this for himself. He can tell how he’s blooming through these experiences and the small miracles that Jaemin shows him every day. This is right and it feels overdue, like he’s wasted so much time in the village that he could have spent living his life instead.

She demands Jaemin to take the phone and he has to promise her that he’ll take care of Jeno before she finally hangs up.

“This is hard for her,” Jeno says quietly and pockets the phone. “I feel bad.”

“Don’t,” Jaemin says. “This is the only life you get for all we know. How sad would it be if you spent it all in a tiny little village, hiding from me?”

“Is that what you were seeking?” Jeno laughs. “A simple village boy?”

Jaemin’s smile is brighter than the brilliant city lights. “Maybe I was.”

“Jaemin, it’s May. It’s rainy. There’s no way we’ll be able to see the sun.”

It’s 5:14 am and they are on the way to the rooftop that’s apparently accessible and Jeno is questioning his life choices. Since Jaemin discovered the existence of said rooftop the night prior he’d gotten this idea stuck in his head about watching the sunrise despite the miserable weather.

Jaemin gives him a disapproving look. “With that attitude you’ll never get anywhere. You have to _believe_ a little, Jeno.”

“Believing won’t change the weather forecast.”

“We’ll see the sunrise. I swear to you.”

It’s strange, really. Despite knowing better, despite the weather forecast and science and common sense, Jeno is still inclined to believe him. Maybe it’s his stupid beautiful smile. A sunrise in its own right.

“Fine.”

“There we go.” Jaemin winks at him and grins. “One day I’ll make a dreamer out of you.”

It’s still mostly dark outside when they sneak up the staircase to the rooftop. Like Jeno feared the sky is clouded, even though there’s no rain. Not yet, anyway.

“There’s no point,” Jeno says as he follows Jaemin onto the flat square roof. “All we get is the hazy view.”

“You’re so pessimistic,” Jaemin gives back.

“I’m just telling you how it is.”

“The view is nice, though. Get over here.” Jaemin holds out his hand until Jeno takes it and then pulls him closer to the edge.

Hong Kong is already awake at this hour, or maybe it never went to sleep. The lights are blurry through the smog, like everything is poorly hidden behind a thin veil. It’s not too bad at all, especially when Jaemin puts his arm around Jeno’s shoulders and huddles against his side.

“Just wait a little,” Jaemin says confidently. “The sun will rise –”

“– _and we will try again_.”

Jaemin laughs. “I knew you were secretly an emo boy.”

“How is listening to Twenty One Pilots making me an –”

“Shhh, shut up, Jeno, we’re watching the sun which will inevitably rise and paint everything in light.”

Somehow he’s right. It starts with a soft orange glow from the east. Some clouds break apart, some turn into purple, into red, into light blue smudges, as if an insane artist picked the sky as their canvas. It doesn’t rain.

It’s a little bit of a miracle, standing on this rooftop, watching the beginning of a sunrise in a foreign country. At the start of this year Jeno wasn’t even considering leaving home, was thinking that his entire future lay within the familiar spaces of the village he was born in.

It’s a bit of a miracle that all it took for Jeno to leave was a boy asking him to.

The sun is getting bolder now, peeking over the edge of the horizon. The skyscrapers are drenched in gold, the first rays reflecting off the smooth clear surfaces, window fronts, sleek black corners of business high-rises and expensive apartment complexes. Jaemin stretches out his arms and faces the light, the breeze snagging the hem of his sweater.

“I feel like the richest man in the world,” he calls, turning to Jeno with a wide smile. “This is what it’s like to be blessed.”

 _You are a blessing to me_ , Jeno thinks. He kind of wants to kiss him and that thought shocks him for a moment, it’s so uncalled for. Then again, it’s not. Maybe that thought has been hiding in the darker corners of his mind, harbouring in the crevices of his heart. Maybe he’s dreamed about it before. Or maybe it’s the red string of fate, tugging on Jeno’s ring finger, tugging and tugging until he’s a little closer to Jaemin, a little closer to gold.

“Dazzling,” Jeno mutters, and he’s not sure what he means.

It starts raining not much later. Jaemin and Jeno grab each other by the hands and run for cover, giggling and trying not to slip on the roof before they reach the stairs.

“Wasn’t that worth it?” Jaemin asks. His hair is ruffled from running and Jeno wants to thread his fingers through it, wants to pull him closer and find out what light tastes like. “Jeno?”

“Oh. Yeah, it was.”

“Sweet. Want to go get some breakfast? I really need some caffeine in me, like, right now.”

Jeno is glad Jaemin turns away. Otherwise he would have seen him blush and Jeno doesn’t know how he would have explained it.

Jeno didn’t think it would make much of a difference knowing they have more time together but it does. Before, they were rushing through the experiences and trying to collect as many memories as they could – now, they are more relaxed. It doesn’t feel like they’re racing an hourglass. Jeno’s heart is light as a helium balloon that follows Jaemin around wherever he goes.

On day five in Hong Kong they find themselves in the foreign section of a huge bookstore and try to read stories to each other in languages they don’t understand.

Jeno _loves_ bookstores – loves how they unhinge time, the thousands of tales around him like stress relief, the silence filled with muffled whispers and the soft scraping flutter of pages being turned. The scents have almost conditioned Jeno to fall into a relaxed state as soon as he walks in, his nose filled with the smell of printed paper and hardcover books.

Being in a bookstore with Jaemin however is different. Jeno is mildly worried about being kicked out with how loudly they’re laughing but he just feels so carefree and giddy that it’s hard to keep control. He isn’t here to browse for some afternoon literature, isn’t looking for the relaxation a place like this offers – too focused on the warmth of Jaemin’s chest against his shoulder when he leans in and the scent of Jaemin’s body spray lingering on his clothes.

Then Jaemin reads out something in English and Jeno doesn’t quite catch the meaning of it. Jaemin’s eyes are soft when Jeno asks him to translate.

“Just look at the night when the sky is vast,” Jaemin reads and runs his index finger along the line, “and the future unfolds.”

“Are you quoting poetry to me, Na Jaemin?” Jeno asks quietly.

Jaemin bats his eyelashes at him. “What if I am? You like poetry.”

Jeno thinks poetry might be the only thing that could begin to make sense of whatever feeling is growing between them. That connection that had been there from the start, before Jeno even learnt Jaemin’s name, before he even let himself think about following him into the world. “I do.”

“Well, listen to this: ‘Sometimes you find your heart so far away from home that you wonder how it got there.’” When Jaemin looks up Jeno finds it hard to hold eye contact. It feels too intense, too intimate somehow. “’Only to realise that perhaps it was never yours.’”

Jeno looks away. It feels like something in his chest is on fire and his heart is choking on the smoke. It’s too much – too much of a confession, too much of a wish, it’s too telling of these unnamed feelings they’re both trying to ignore. Jeno doesn’t know what to reply to that. He doesn’t even know if Jaemin is just reading, or if he’s teasing Jeno, or if maybe he’s feeling just like that line said.

“You’re so cheesy,” Jeno says eventually and takes the book out of Jaemin’s hands. He places it back on the shelf and turns, hoping Jaemin will follow him without asking any questions or making Jeno look at him. He can’t right now. His chest is still burning.

The overwhelming presence of the city comes like a slap in the face. It’s always so quiet in bookstores and it feels like time passes differently in there. Here, in the middle of a busy pedestrian zone, time waits for no one.

“So, Lee Jeno,” Jaemin asks next to him. “How would you like to spend the rest of the day?”

They visit a museum. A mall. Another market that smells so intensely of fish and other sea creatures that Jeno thinks he’ll have to wash all his clothes to get the stench out again. They share egg waffles and grilled squid for dinner which they eat on a bench near the pier. Sometimes Jeno feels their travels together are just one extended street food trip, which he’s not going to complain about since they have similar tastes.

Still. By the time it’s dark Jeno is still thinking about poetry and home and what it means that he’s still here with Jaemin instead of in the little village he belongs to.

“Are you tired?” Jaemin asks. He must have picked up on Jeno’s quietness.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Is everything okay?”

Jeno finally looks at Jaemin. He seems mildly worried, brows furrowed. Jeno feels a little guilty for making him feel that way. “Just overwhelmed.”

“We don’t have to do more sight-seeing tomorrow if you don’t want to,” Jaemin says. “We can just hang out somewhere. Maybe the park.”

“Can we head back to the apartment? I just want to lie down.”

“Sure.”

So they do. It takes a while since they’ve wandered off a ways but eventually they arrive and take turns in the bathroom to get ready for sleep.

Once Jeno comes out of the shower, he joins Jaemin on the bed and lies as close to him as possible without crowding him. Jaemin takes that as an invitation and slides his arm around Jeno’s waist. Jeno closes his eyes and hides his face in Jaemin’s chest. He feels protected like this, with Jaemin’s fingers gently running through his hair. He doesn’t think there’s anything in the world he could miss right now.

Jaemin doesn’t say anything. Maybe he can tell that it’s not the right moment to tease or break the silence at all. Maybe his head is full of his own thoughts. Jeno is grateful for it. He wonders what would happen if he put a voice to these budding feelings: _Jaemin, I want to be this close to you forever_.

It’s dangerous to think these thoughts. Jeno knows that but it’s impossible not to think them when he’s with Jaemin all the time. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll be okay.

They fall asleep like that, wrapped up in the safety of each other’s arms.

The next day, they don’t do any of the left-over sight-seeing stuff. Instead they go to the park and wander around before locating a Korean restaurant. Jeno is aware they’re probably wasting the opportunity to find some amazing Chinese dish they’ve never tried before but he can’t help it – the food of his home country will always be the best to him.

Jaemin buys soju that makes both of them tipsy and silly, and eventually Jaemin lifts his glass for a toast.

“Next destination: Bangkok,” he cheers, eyes bright.

Jeno clinks his glass against Jaemin’s. He’s pleasantly buzzed and the alcohol makes his insides feel warm, kind of like Jaemin does sometimes. “Here’s to safe travels and incredible memories.”

“I’m with you,” Jaemin says easily. “Every memory with you is incredible.”

Jeno rolls his eyes but he has to laugh, and then they just sit there, giggly and drunk, kicking each other’s feet under the table – a small, significant kind of happiness.

It feels a little like a starting point of something new, a door opening, letting the sunshine in.

Though, Jeno thinks, that’s what Jaemin has been all along. A warm light coming into his life when Jeno didn’t even realise that he’d been sitting in the dark, illuminating the way.

**  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! Pls tell me in the comments how this made you feel <3 
> 
> also if I've written/am writing about a country you know very well and you think it's inaccurate, i'm very sorry ;_; i haven't been able to travel to all of the places they're going to so I'm relying on research etc.  
> 
> 
> talk to me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ki_jaemjen)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ki_jaemin)


	4. Bangkok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HKG ✈ BKK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!
> 
> yes this chapter is one day early just because i felt like it
> 
> tw for someone getting sick
> 
> songs:  
> run away - fareoh  
> with you - otto knows  
> breathe - mako  
> conscience - jacob lee  
> you & me - james tw
> 
> enjoy!

_“Maybe you had to leave in order to really miss a place; maybe you had to travel to figure out how beloved your starting point was.” – Jodi Picoult_

Bangkok, Thailand, is the colour red. Not the kind that makes Jeno think of anger, but the one that makes him think of spicy food. Of red peppers. Of chili and passion and the fabric of the food stand where they try Tom Yum Goong, seafood soup. It’s the drop of Jaemin’s blood when he scrapes his elbow on a wall because he got distracted by the beauty of the Temple of Dawn, Wat Arun.

The first two days are a mixture of shades, like Jeno’s mind has to catch up with all this vibrancy. He likes the river side with its floating market where they get to try all kinds of different food.

(Durian is one of them. Both Jaemin and Jeno give each other glances of regret as soon as the smell hits but the friendly merchant had already handed them a piece to try. The taste is far better than what Jeno expected but he’s pretty sure this is a once-only experience. Jaemin, who’s looking like he has some trouble swallowing much to Jeno’s amusement, seems to share that view.

They move on to find some very spicy food after that to get rid of the stench in their noses.)

They are staying with a young guy this time who introduces himself as Ten for simplicity’s sake. He’s a performance teacher and looks like it, too; short but lithe, and he moves like a panther even when he’s just walking. He seems slightly predatory as well, Jeno thinks.

The flat is nice, though. Ten is friendly and open-minded, giving them advice on where to go next, which is how they end up eating their way through yet another market. Jeno doesn’t even know what hunger feels like anymore, he’s so full, but the friendly merchants give them samples and Jeno has never been very good at rejecting free food. He has that in common with Jaemin, who complains about a stomach ache on the way back.

Jeno wakes up at some point during the night to the sound of someone throwing up into a toilet. He and Jaemin each have their own bed this time, so Jeno didn’t notice him getting up.

He pads over to the adjacent bathroom. The door is slightly ajar, throwing a slim strip of light across the floor but Jeno knocks on the door before entering anyway.

Jaemin is kneeling on the off-white tiles, braced over the toilet bowl. There’s spit on his chin when he looks up and he’s pale as paper, hair dishevelled, forehead glistening with sweat.

“Jaemin,” Jeno says, worry seeping into his bones as he squats down next to him. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s fine,” Jaemin rasps. “Just ate something weird.”

Jeno’s mind immediately flicks through all the things they’ve eaten today – too many to remember them all. “What if it’s food poisoning? You should go see a doctor.”

“It’s fine. It just needs to leave my system, then I’ll be good to go.”

Jeno rubs his hand over Jaemin’s back, hot to the touch. “Is there anything I can do?”

Jaemin shakes his head. “Go back to bed.”

Jeno sighs and gets up. Instead of trying to sleep more, he grabs a blanket and a full water bottle from the desk before bringing both of the items to Jaemin.

“Stay hydrated,” Jeno insists. “And get your legs off the tiles.”

Jaemin smiles weakly as he accepts the water and twists the cap off. “What would I do without you?”

“Die, probably.”

“Seriously,” Jaemin says. “Thank you. You’re a blessing, Jeno.”

“Are you coming back to bed? I mean! Are you – going back to sleep?”

Jaemin smiles again. “Once I trust my stomach, yeah. Go ahead.”

Jeno lingers for a while and watches Jaemin down half of the water. He doesn’t really want to go back to bed, would rather stay here and keep Jaemin company, make sure he’s okay –

“Do you need anything else?” he asks.

Jaemin shakes his head. “I’ll wake you if I need to. Okay?”

“Hm. Okay.”

“Goodnight, Jeno.”

Jeno doesn’t fall asleep until he hears Jaemin lie down in his own bed, breath steady and evening out. A part of him wishes they’d share again.

In the morning, Jeno asks their host if he could use the kitchen to make porridge for Jaemin. Ten agrees and, upon seeing Jeno’s disastrous kitchen skills, gently pushes Jeno out of the way to do it himself.

“Some of the food stands are a bit shady,” he tells Jeno as he turns on the stove. “Any memory of what might have caused it?”

Jeno is incredibly glad that this time their host speaks Korean. Actually, Ten might be some kind of language genius; up until now, Jeno has heard him speak English, Thai, Mandarin, and even a little bit of Japanese, too.

“We ate so many different things I can’t really remember,” Jeno admits. “I just hope it passes quickly.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. If he’s not better by the afternoon, tell me and I’ll bring you to a hospital.”

“Thank you.”

While the porridge simmers on the stove, Ten and Jeno sit down at the little table in the kitchen and drink tea. Jeno feels a little awkward; even though Ten seems really open-minded and friendly Jeno isn’t very good at keeping a conversation going with him. He excuses himself to check on Jaemin, who’s still passed out in their room, before he comes back.

“You care about him a lot, don’t you?” Ten asks. His eyes are sharp and for a second Jeno is scared that he can see right down to his soul and read it off his face – just how much he cares.

“I don’t want him to be sick,” Jeno says carefully.

“Of course you don’t.”

Jeno stares into his empty cup, the few tiny grains the tea has left there. Wonders if they say anything about his future and if yes, whether or not that future includes Jaemin. Maybe he should make a wish. Maybe he should pray at a temple.

“We’re just travelling together for a while,” Jeno says to no one in particular.

“Where are you from again?” Ten asks.

“I’m from the countryside of South Korea,” Jeno tells him. “Jaemin is from the UK.”

“That’s quite the distance.”

 _Tell me about it_ , Jeno thinks. “Yeah.”

“Here are some wise words from someone who’s older than you,” Ten says and folds his hands. “Don’t let your fear get in the way of what you want.”

Jeno frowns, heart beating uncomfortably against his Adam’s apple. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetie, all I can say is that my gay senses are tingling whenever you two are in the same room,” Ten gives back.

Jeno is shocked into silence. There’s a glint in Ten’s eyes that Jeno can only classify as dangerously cunning and he doesn’t know what to answer, or even think. “G-gay senses?”

Ten laughs and takes a breath to answer when the door creaks open.

Jaemin is standing in the threshold, looking rumpled and pale. He has dark shadows under his eyes and Jeno suppresses the urge to go and hug him.

“How are you feeling?” Jeno asks.

“Dead.” Jaemin glances at the ceiling in contemplation. “Weak.”

“Jeno made porridge for you,” Ten says and gestures to the stove.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow at Jeno when he drags himself into the room. “I thought you can’t cook.”

“Oh, he can’t,” Ten snorts. “I had to help a lot.”

“You should eat something,” Jeno says and gets up, ignoring the way Ten’s eyes follow him. “Go sit down.”

Jaemin does as he’s told, which mildly surprises Jeno, and accepts the bowl of porridge Jeno gives him. Again, Ten is watching them intently and Jeno grows more uncomfortable each second. If a stranger can see his feelings so easily he’s not as good at hiding them as he thought. And being bad at hiding means having to confront them, at least at some point.

Jeno isn’t ready for that.

Jaemin eats his porridge slowly, like he’s afraid after each spoon that he might throw it back up. He starts looking a little more alive, though, and gives Ten a detailed recount of everything he’s eaten the day before.

“Maybe my body just couldn’t handle so many different things getting mixed up in there,” Jaemin says with a shrug.

Ten nods thoughtfully. “You should probably take it easy today.”

“Yeah.” Jaemin sighs. “What a shame. I’m sorry, Jeno.”

Jeno scoffs. “Why are you apologising? It’s not like you planned to make yourself sick. Go and take a nap.”

“So bossy,” Jaemin grumbles but again, he listens to Jeno.

Jeno remains in the kitchen with Ten to put away the leftover porridge for later and help with the dishes. There’s a smirk on Ten’s face when he makes a gesture with his hands that makes it look like he has antennae. “Tingling.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Jeno deflects and escapes the kitchen with Ten’s cocky laugh ringing in his ears.

They’re sitting on Jaemin’s bed, a stack of playing cards in front of them after Jeno won their last round. That’s how they spent the early afternoon: talking and playing games and browsing through memories and then playing more games. Jaemin still looks pale and refuses to eat anything of substance, but he looks a whole lot better than he did last night. The edge of worry is still eating away at a part of Jeno’s stomach but it’s not as strong.

Jaemin sighs and glances up at Jeno through his eyelashes. “Look, if you wanna look around without me, feel free to go.”

Jeno shakes his head. “I’d probably just get lost.”

“Your phone will tell you where to go this time.”

“And what about you? Won’t you be bored without company?”

Jaemin chuckles. “First of all, I’ll probably just nap for the rest of the day. Second, Ten’s here and he’s quite fun, so no, I don’t think I’ll be bored. I might miss you, but you should go and have fun.”

Jeno hesitates and bites his bottom lip. “I won’t have any fun without you…”

“Aw, Jeno… we’re only here for a few more days. Go and play. Bring me something nice.”

“Like what?”

Jaemin shrugs. “A lucky charm.”

“Hmpf. Fine. You might need it.”

Exploring a big city by himself is daunting. It’s different than the small moments in which Jeno’s been alone, different from when he got lost – he keeps turning around thinking Jaemin is behind him but he isn’t and then Jeno feels terribly lonesome for a few seconds.

But it’s probably better for Jaemin to rest. The different smells of the streets are overwhelming even to Jeno and it’s loud here, in the middle of the multi-coloured crowd.

People keep offering him things and he’s worried they’ll steal things from him if he gets too distracted. He wishes Jaemin was here with him. To share the memories, to give him that quiet security just with his presence.

Jeno doesn’t get lost but he still feels it – the dependency on another human being. The emotional attachment to this specific boy who cannot be replaced by any of these strangers around him. It feels like walking around with a hole in his chest and then, in the middle of the busy street, Jeno pauses.

Is this what it’s going to be like? Going home when Jaemin isn’t?

Is he just going to be empty for the rest of his life?

Jeno shakes his head and the sensations come back to him full force. The stifling, dusty heat, his sticky palms on the straps of his backpack, the summery scent of lemon and fried fish, the biting sharpness of spicy peppers. The sun is setting behind the tall buildings and no one is here to watch it with him.

 _I want to go home_ , Jeno thinks, and so he does.

When Jeno lets himself back into the room Jaemin is stretched out on his bed, idly scrolling through something on his phone. He stops when he notices Jeno in the doorway and looks up. “Oh, hey.”

“Hi.” Jeno closes the door behind him and throws his backpack on his own bed before sitting down. He can feel the sweat drying on his skin in the air-conditioned room and reminds himself to shower quickly. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” Jaemin says and sits up. He looks much better, too, though he seems tired. “What were you up to? Had a good time?”

“I just explored Kaoh San Road. It was fun but…”

Jaemin lifts the corner of his mouth into a smirk. “You missed me?”

Jeno chooses not to reply to that. Jaemin already knows it’s true. “I brought you something.”

“Really?”

“You really do need a lucky charm.”

“I got sick _once_ so far.”

“Well, it better stay that one time. So I got you this.” Jeno pulls the little brown paper bag out of his backpack, careful so the packaging won’t wrinkle. Not that it really matters as long as the inside is intact, but still. He hands it to Jaemin who takes it and starts to unwrap it with a gleeful smile on his face.

It’s a thin silver bangle, so simplistic it’s almost non-descript, but the polish makes it shine in the sunlight. Jeno knows Jaemin likes wristbands, has noticed him wearing the same leader band and another silver bracelet quite often, and chose it for good luck.

Jaemin holds it with care, his smile growing in luminance the longer he looks at it, and then slides it onto his arm. He holds it out for Jeno to see and the metal glints in the dim light. “I – thank you, Jeno. Come here so I can hug you.”

Jeno shakes his head. He knows his eyes are smiling. “I have to shower first.”

“Fair enough.” Jaemin looks at the bracelet again. “It’s so pretty.”

 _Like you_ , Jeno thinks. _Silver and gold, always catching the light_. “I’m happy you like it.”

Jeno feels Jaemin’s eyes on his back when he retreats to the bathroom and wonders if there was something else he wanted to say.

Jaemin is sitting on Jeno’s bed this time when he comes back and wordlessly pulls him closer by the wrist before wrapping his arms around his middle.

“Thank you,” he says and presses his cheek against Jeno’s stomach. It tickles but it feels intimate, too, trusting, like Jeno would never think of pushing Jaemin away. And he wouldn’t. Not in this life. He runs his fingers through Jaemin’s hair and feels him smile.

“I hope it brings you luck,” Jeno says quietly. “I hope it wards off evil and protects you.”

“It will,” Jaemin replies. “It’s from you.”

They decide to do something chill the next day, even though Jaemin insists he’s feeling fine again. In the end it’s more of a compromise in the form of the hop-on-and-off bus. Jeno fully intents on sitting in there for a few hours and watching the city fly by while Jaemin is most likely planning on getting out at every stop.

“Listen,” Jaemin says after they pass yet another stop. “You do realise that we have to get off at some point to eat, don’t you? In fact, I am _starving_.”

Jaemin does have a point. The simple breakfast they had at a small restaurant earlier today has long since burnt off and Jeno is feeling hungry, too.

“Fine. Let’s get off at the next one then.”

The next stop happens to be Chinatown. The neon boards and brilliant colours here remind Jeno of Hong Kong, along with the smell of burning incense and street food, the sound of fizzling oil and people haggling over prices. Jaemin immediately links their hands together as if reminded of losing Jeno on the market. Jeno is glad for it; he doesn’t want a repeat of that. 

There are not as many food stands as there would be later at night and Jaemin is extra suspicious now, but it makes their decisions faster. They share a portion of stir-fried noodles, served in a little cardboard box with disposable chopsticks. It feels so different to be here with Jaemin than to be alone and Jeno wonders how Jaemin managed to travel by himself for so long. Wonders how often he got lonely or thought about going back home. Somehow Jeno can’t imagine Jaemin thinking that. Not with the way he’s been speaking – or _not_ speaking – about where he came from.

“Did you make a lot of friends on your journeys?” Jeno asks and wipes his fingers clean with a paper napkin.

Jaemin throws away the box and chopsticks before answering. “I made a lot of acquaintances but I only consider one my friend. Mark, you know, that Canadian guy I told you about.”

“Oh. Do you still contact each other?”

Jaemin shrugs. “Life moves so fast, you know? Circumstances change. I text him every now and then to let him know I’m still alive and he texts me to tell me what he’s up to, but it’s not the same. It was fun, though. Travelling with him.”

Jeno nods like he understands. He was hoping for a different answer, something like ‘yeah, of course, the friendship is no different despite the miles and miles between us’.

But Jaemin told him the truth instead and it hurts. It hurts what that answer might mean for the two of them.

“Maybe one day you can go visit him or something,” Jeno says.

“That would be nice.” Jaemin grins at him, sly and joyful. “Maybe I’ll take you with me. He’d like you.”

Jeno tries to smile back. “Yeah, maybe…”

They walk around a bit more without a specific destination, letting the push and pull of the crowd dictate their way. They pass a stand of talismans, herbs and traditional charms to ward off evil.

“We should go to a temple and pray,” Jaemin suggests, inspecting a small pouch that smells overwhelmingly of lavender.

Jeno squints at him. “Do you even believe in that stuff?”

“No. But I know you do.”

“So you’re saying I should just do the praying for both of us.”

“I’m saying you inspire me,” Jaemin replies, “and that you make me want to believe in things that are bigger than our simple minds.”

Jeno is surprised. He was expecting some kind of witty or sarcastic answer, if he’s honest. “I do?”

“You see the world as it is. Full of miracles, you know? Most people walk around with a set of expectation as to what things should be like and don’t really perceive things with an open heart. But you do. It makes me want to do the same.”

Jeno stays silent. He wasn’t aware that Jaemin was thinking these things about him; he thought it would be the other way around. Because honestly, Jaemin shows him these miracles. He was the one who made Jeno see that the world has more to offer than a tiny village.

But he doesn’t know how to say it out loud. “Oh. Thank you.”

“So is that a yes?”

“To what?”

“Visiting a temple.”

“Uh. Sure.”

They find themselves in front of the Marble Temple as the sun sets. It’s beautiful with its golden embellishments and the white columns, and Jeno watches Jaemin take pictures of it for a while, along a bunch of other tourists. There are quite a few couples here, having others take photos of them kissing or holding selfie sticks up to do it themselves.

Jeno wonders what would happen if he kissed Jaemin here.

“Don’t you want to pray?” Jaemin says when he comes back, startling Jeno out of his thoughts.

“It’s awkward to do it outside of the actual temple,” Jeno replies. “And doing it by myself while you’re thinking about the ridiculousness of it is weird, too.”

“Hey, I never said it’s ridiculous. Just because I’m not a spiritual person doesn’t mean I don’t have respect.” Jaemin’s eyes narrow with mirth. “It’s just that my objects of worship are usually people.”

Jeno stares at Jaemin, trying to discern if he meant it the way Jeno understood it, and Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows at him. Jeno blushes and punches him in the shoulder.

“You heathen!”

“I’m just telling the truth!”

The uncomfortable image of Jaemin being with other people forces itself into Jeno’s mind. It’s another feeling he isn’t accustomed to – jealousy. It burns like acid low in his guts, even though he has no rights to call Jaemin his. Will never have those rights.

“What?” Jaemin asks. He still looks amused but, beneath that, curious and careful.

“Nothing.”

Jaemin shrugs. “So are you going to pray or not?”

“No.”

“Cool. Let’s go eat then.”

They go all out tonight, choosing some of the hottest food this traditional Thai restaurant has to offer. By the time the plates are scraped clean Jeno’s entire mouth is numb from the spiciness and his nose is running, but it feels good; letting himself ache for something that isn’t another person, having the spices burn more than the hole in his chest.

They lie in Jeno’s bed together after having looked at the pictures Jaemin had taken today. There were many nice ones of the scenery and then some candids of Jeno where he seemed more handsome than he really is. Jeno wonders if Jaemin can see the soft fondness in his eyes even in the photos whenever he looked back at the person behind the camera. He hopes he doesn’t.

Now they’re just chilling in the dark. Jeno has his phone on his stomach while Jaemin has his in front of his face, the brightness of his screen illuminating his serene expression. From the side Jeno can see the sharp edge of Jaemin’s Adam’s apple, watches it move when Jaemin silently laughs at something. Has anyone ever kissed him there? How many? What did that feel like?

Jeno has so many questions. Wants to know if Jaemin has been in love with any of them, but at the same time, never wants to hear about those people.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” Jaemin asks and locks his phone, pitching everything into darkness.

Jeno squirms. “It’s awkward to ask…”

“But it’s just me.”

“It’s just… did you – I mean. Did you have a lot of girlfriends?”

Jaemin laughs. “Oh, Jeno.”

Jeno flips onto his stomach and buries his face in the pillows. “Never mind.”

“No, come back here.” Jeno feels Jaemin’s fingers jab at his sides and he squeaks, rolling back onto his side to defend himself.

“I wouldn’t call it many,” Jaemin says, softer now. “In fact, I prefer boys. And I haven’t been with a lot of those, either.”

“Oh.”

“Why are you asking?”

Jeno prays to every deity that Jaemin can’t tell in the dark how red his face is. “Just curious.”

“What about you then?”

“I’ve never been in a relationship.”

“Never?”

“No. Like, not a serious one anyway. The most I’ve ever done is kiss people.”

“Mhm. I thought so.”

“Huh?”

“No offence, but you have this… innocence about you. You don’t seem like the kind of guy who goes and hooks up with people just for the hell of it.”

“Are you that kind of guy?”

“Not anymore.”

Jeno’s entire body is burning with it, the knowledge that Jaemin is so much more experienced than he is. It doesn’t intimidate or surprise him, really, but for a moment he feels like a child, terribly naïve and small. He’s twenty-one but he might as well be sixteen again, clumsy and embarrassed of his feelings.

“You and Mark,” he asks carefully. His heart contracts in his chest like it’s not sure whether or not it wants an honest answer. “Were you – were you, like, together?”

Jaemin makes a surprised noise. “Huh? No, we weren’t. We were just, you know. Fooling around a little.”

“So you did kiss him.”

“Yeah.”

 _Why won’t you kiss me_ , Jeno wants to ask but he thinks he already knows the answer. _I can’t kiss you because if I did, I couldn’t walk away from you_. But maybe that’s just a wish. Maybe that’s just him.

“Jeno,” Jaemin says quietly and finds Jeno’s hand in the dark. His palm is warm against his skin, always so warm. Jeno wants to melt into the touch. “I wasn’t in love with him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

_Is there a future in which you could love me? Is that why you won’t kiss me? Is that why we have to pretend to be just friends, so we won’t break our own hearts when we have to end something that just barely begun?_

“You have to promise me something,” Jaemin says then.

The downward spiral of Jeno’s thoughts pauses. “What?”

“Promise me that you’ll do things at your own pace. That you won’t let anyone force you or talk you into things you don’t want for yourself,” Jaemin says.

“I – of course. I promise.”

Jaemin exhales like he’s relieved. “Good.”

“Why…?”

“It’s just… I did a lot of stupid things when I was younger. A lot of things I would do differently now if I could go back in time. I just… don’t want you to have the same regrets.”

Jeno’s heart hurts. He wants to ask what exactly happened that Jaemin regrets it like this but he doesn’t think Jaemin would answer that. “Well. I don’t want to regret things, either.”

It’s quiet for a long moment. Jeno tries desperately not to let his thoughts derail and crash into dark murky waters. It’s hard, especially because Jeno isn’t blind to Jaemin’s appearance and has already let himself think about what it might be like to kiss him. Lying next to him in the same bed despite each having their own doesn’t really help, and the heat seeps further into his bones until it’s undistinguishable from all the other feelings that give him warmth. Jeno _wants_. Always wants what he can’t have.

He’s not going to think about it now, with Jaemin so close he can feel his body heat. Jaemin has the strange tendency to understand what goes on in Jeno’s mind without ever having to voice it, too, which makes this all the harder.

“Maybe we should sleep,” Jeno suggests.

Jaemin hums in agreement but shows no signs of getting up and going to his own bed.

“Jaemin?”

“Can’t I just sleep here?”

Jeno clenches his jaw and exhales. This is fine. It’s fine. He won’t overthink. “Alright.”

Jaemin hums again and then rearranges his limbs, facing away but one of his legs pressed against Jeno’s. As always he’s boiling and the touch sears into Jeno’s skin.

Jeno waits until Jaemin’s breath has evened out before he carefully untangles himself from the blanket and escapes to the bathroom.

His face isn’t flushed when he considers himself in the square mirror but he looks guilty, like he has a secret hiding in his heart. He wonders how that would fare as a nightly conversation: _my secret is that I think you’re insanely attractive and I like you so much and I want you to touch me in ways no one else has before_.

Jeno splashes cold water in his face. Shame burns like a flame on his skin and it takes long until he’s stamped it all out.

By the time Jeno goes back to bed Jaemin has completely claimed the covers but it’s alright. He can have them. He can have everything. He doesn’t even have to ask, not when Jeno’s always this willing to give.

When Jaemin had suggested visiting a flower market for their last day that was probably the cue for Jeno to say no thank you, he has allergies.

But he didn’t. Jaemin seemed genuinely excited about the prospect of sniffing some plants, and so they’re here, in a huge hall that smells like five hundred florists and perfumeries squeezed into one building. Jeno has been sneezing his way through the market for around an hour, following Jaemin who’s busy talking pictures of the different colours and chatting with the merchants.

It’s getting harder to breathe. Maybe Thailand just isn’t their lucky stop and Jeno reminds himself that it can’t always be sunshine and rainbows, not even with Jaemin.

“Jaemin?” he calls. His voice sounds thick to his own ears.

Jaemin immediately spins around with a wide smile. It slips off his face in seconds, replaced by mild worry. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Jeno sniffs. “Allergies. Do you mind if I wait outside?”

Jaemin grabs Jeno by the arm and begins dragging him towards the exit. “What? Why didn’t you tell me? We wouldn’t have gone here in the first place. God, Jeno, you have to let me know when there’s something you can’t or don’t want to do.”

“You seemed so excited about it and you already missed out on–”

“Oh, come _on_.” They finally reach the exit and Jeno breathes in the more or less fresh city air. Out here it smells like exhaust fumes and spices, but that’s ten times better than millions of flowers. “If we want this to be enjoyable we have to talk about the things we want and don’t want. Don’t make my joy more important than your health, you hear me?”

Jaemin places both of his hands on Jeno’s shoulders and Jeno is forced to look at him. He seems worried still, but mildly annoyed, too, and Jeno wishes the ground would swallow him and his shame.

“I’m sorry,” Jeno replies. “I just wanted to accompany you.”

“Never _ever_ neglect your health, Jeno. Promise you won’t do it again.”

“I promise.”

Jaemin deflates and smiles a little. Jeno still feels small and full of regret under his gaze; he knows it was a mistake to not speak up, but he thought he could bear it. “Alright? We’re going to find you some cetirizine now.”

After getting Jeno some medicine, the rest of the day is pretty relaxed. The atmosphere is still a little cold, though, and Jeno isn’t sure if that’s just him or if Jaemin’s mood, too, has suffered.

“I’m sorry for ruining the day,” Jeno says quietly. They’re sitting in a small restaurant for a quick and simple dinner but the guilt doesn’t let him taste anything of his curry.

Jaemin looks up. “What? You didn’t.”

“But I –”

“Jeno.” Jaemin puts his spoon down and leans forward a little. “You didn’t. I’m sorry I’m kind of quiet today but it’s not because of you.”

“Oh. Then why?”

“Because even I don’t have endless energy. What about you? Talk to me.”

Jeno isn’t sure what to say. _I’m sorry I did what I did. I’m sorry that I want you to be mine. I’m sorry, I’m sorry_ – “I just feel guilty.”

“You don’t need to. It’s okay; we’re okay. Right? Are there any more health issues I need to know about?”

“Hm. I’m allergic to cats.”

“Anything else?”

“No. You?”

“I can’t think of anything right now.”

“Okay.”

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I get a hug?”

Jeno loves that about Jaemin: his ability to ask for what he wants. The fact that he doesn’t hide these things. Jeno thinks they don’t really have serious fights thanks to that and Jeno’s dislike of conflict. “Sure.”

They get up and Jaemin embraces him right there, in the middle of the restaurant, his chin on Jeno’s shoulder. Jeno feels the stress fall off of him; Jaemin really isn’t mad. He doesn’t know about the shame Jeno’s hiding in the hollow of his chest and he won’t ever. It’s okay.

“Let’s go back to the apartment,” Jaemin says.

“Okay,” Jeno replies but they stay like that for a little longer.

They are lying in their room, each doing their own thing. When Jeno glances over Jaemin is reading something on his phone, on leg propped up. He kind of wants to lie down next to him but at the same time, he feels like both of them need a little bit of space right now.

Jeno feels heavy. Weighted down. He thinks about his mum and the way she hugs him from behind sometimes. He’s so much taller than her that her face doesn’t even reach his shoulder blades anymore, but it’s his mum. He misses her. The familiar sounds of the house he grew up in with the hum of air-con, the creaking stairs that he and Eunjin learnt how to sneak down, silent until one of them couldn’t muffle their laughter.

Is this homesickness, Jeno wonders. This ache for his worn down futon on the floor of his room. His mother's humming in the morning. He yearns for the easy routine he had. The shop and the rice fields and the sound of cattle grazing on dry fields. Everything that was home before Jaemin came and changed the meaning of it.

Jaemin notices. Of course he does. Sometimes Jeno feels like Jaemin can pick up on his moods faster than he does himself and blames it on the fact that they've only been around each other.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

"You miss home, don't you?"

Jeno nods. "You don't?"

"Never enough to go back."

"I don't want to go back, either."

"You should call your mum."

"I don’t know. I might cry."

"You'll feel better."

Jaemin waits outside on the small balcony while Jeno facetimes his mum. She cries a little and Jeno almost does, too, but Jaemin is right – he does feel better.

“You better be having fun if you stay away for so long,” she says, nose a little red.

“So much,” Jeno says. “I’m seeing all these amazing things and Jaemin takes care of me.”

His mum sniffs. “As he should. Tell him to be careful, yeah? And that I wish him all the best, too. I’m grateful it’s him who’s with you.”

“I’m grateful for him, too.”

“Send us more postcards, yeah? And pictures! Eunjinnie keeps showing me the same ones from Hong Kong. She says hi, too, by the way.”

Jeno snorts. “I promise I’ll send more.”

“Great. Have fun out there, yeah? But take care! We all miss you, honey.”

“I miss you, too. Hug everyone from me, okay?”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Me, too.”

“Say it properly.”

“Hmpf. I love you, mum.”

She smiles and waves at the camera. “Bye bye, Jeno. Don’t forget to text.”

They hang up and Jeno joins Jaemin on the balcony. There are a few stars scattered on the firmament but not as many as Jeno is used to from home.

"Mum says hi."

Jaemin’s mouth curls into a smile. “Feeling better?”

Jeno nods. The air up here is better than in the streets, though still nothing compared to the country side breeze. “She said she’s glad it’s you I’m travelling with.”

“Aww. Your mum is so sweet.” He slants a look at Jeno. “I’m the one who’s glad, though.”

Jeno rolls his eyes. “Just accept the compliment.” He puts his arm around Jaemin’s waist and Jaemin lets himself be pulled against his side. The moonlight illuminates the soft slope of his side profile when Jeno looks at him. “I’m glad it’s you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! I'm not overly confident in this chapter so pls do tell me what you think ;_;  
> the next chapter is going to be a shorter one, apologies for that in advance~
> 
>   
> talk to me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ki_jaemjen)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ki_jaemin)


	5. Dhaka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BKK ✈ DAK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back! honestly this chapter is so short it's more of an interlude but uuh here we go
> 
> songs: 
> 
> ignite - rkcb  
> take it slowly - garrett kato  
> home away from home - canopy climbers  
> lost - jai wolf

_“All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.” – J. M. Darrie_

Dhaka is absolutely nuts. It takes them almost two hours to get to their destination, squeezed together in a tuk-tuk with their backpacks on their laps. It’s uncomfortable and the humidity is killing Jeno and the unruly street isn’t doing his ass any favours, either.

Still. It’s so different from anything else Jeno has seen. There are goats roaming the street right next to a skyscraper. People honk at each other angrily and then drive on a wing and a prayer, in vehicles that don’t seem safe at all. 

They get off before they even reach their hostel. The heat and the rattling are too much, Jaemin says, so they would try to find some food and then continue.

“Isn’t it crazy?” Jaemin asks. “I feel like this place has so many colours.”

That’s true, Jeno thinks. Beneath the fine layer of dust that hovers around the main road, Dhaka is incredibly vibrant. It’s one of the most densely populated cities in the world but it’s not as crowded as Jeno feared it would be when he learnt that fact.

“This looks like a restaurant,” Jaemin says and pulls Jeno into a building. The door feels like it’s made of cardboard, so Jeno closes it gently.

There are a bunch of plastic chairs and tables inside and the entire room smells like frying oil and spices. A friendly guy with wrinkles around his eyes tries to tell them about the menu and they eventually decide to share some kind of curry.

“You eat with your hands here,” Jaemin tells him when the waiter brings them two plates of rice and a bowl of curry, along with some bread. “But use just your right hand.”

The food is good. The waiter comes back and talks to them, or tries to, and offers them free drinks. Another guy from the kitchen joins them, apparently curious, and Jeno figures they don’t get many foreigners around here. Everyone is very kind and Jeno feels a little less lost. It doesn’t erase his exhaustion, though, since he wasn’t able to fall asleep on the plane and he’s starting to get his time zones mixed up. He leaves most of the conversation to Jaemin, who seems happy enough talking to the inquisitive locals.

They eventually get on their way to the hostel. Jeno is dead tired by now from being on the move all day and even though the time difference is slim, he still feels it settle into his bones. Jaemin seems to be exhausted as well as he’s uncharacteristically quiet.

Their hostel room is tiny but it works. There’s just one bed again but Jeno doesn’t even blink an eye when they both crash on it.

“We should shower,” Jaemin mumbles against the mattress.

“We should.” Honestly. Every time Jeno touches his face it’s like he’s rubbing dust into his skin. The sweat makes him feels icky, too, and they probably both smell like the underside of this city.

Jaemin sighs and pushes himself up. “Come on, then.”

“What, we’re showering together now, too?” Jeno raises his eyebrows and tries not to laugh at Jaemin’s flustered face.

“No, you idiot.” Then he gives Jeno a smirk. “I mean, unless you want to…?”

Jeno should have known better than to tease someone as flirty as Jaemin. He groans and buries his face in the mattress again. “Just go.”

Jaemin’s laughter still rings in his ears long after he’s left the room.

“So maybe I explored this building a little,” Jaemin starts when Jeno comes back from the shower. “And found out there’s a rooftop terrace…”

Jeno groans and throws his towel over the chair in the corner to dry. “Go watch the sunrise by yourself.”

Jaemin props himself up on his elbows and slants a puppy look at Jeno. “We’ve watched the sunrise together in almost every country, Jeno. We can’t let the tradition die.”

“Scoot over,” Jeno says and pushes at Jaemin’s shoulder for good measure. Jaemin makes space for him with a whine and Jeno lies down next to him, his eyes falling closed immediately. “Do it alone.”

“Jen, please. I’ll buy you breakfast,” Jaemin suggests and sneaks an arm around Jeno’s waist. Jeno is about to complain about the heat but thinks better of it; it’s nice to have Jaemin this close.

“You buy breakfast all the time.”

“Then tell me what you want.”

“I want to sleep in.”

“In the next country. When we have more time.”

“No.”

“But you like sunrises!”

“I like sleep more.”

“And you like me the most,” Jaemin drawls, voice suddenly very close to Jeno’s ear. “Do it for me.”

Jeno huffs and pushes Jaemin away. “Will you let me sleep if I say yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

“You’re going to love it, just you wait.”

“Shut up.”

Jaemin laughs quietly and pulls Jeno against his chest. “Goodnight, Jen.”

When Jeno wakes up the next morning to the sound of Jaemin’s alarm, he’s not sure which country he’s in or even what dimension. Opening his eyes feels like too much effort, so he merely flips onto his stomach and buries his face in the pillow, hoping the annoying noise will stop on its own.

“Don’t you dare fall back asleep,” he hears Jaemin say and then the blanket is being ripped away from him. “Rise and shine, sweetheart. Like the sun we’re about to watch.”

Jeno groans when he feels the weight of Jaemin’s body on his back, his scent washing over him right before Jaemin leans down to press his lips to Jeno’s temple.

“Get up,” Jaemin demands. “You promised.”

Jeno is pretty sure he didn’t make any binding agreements but it also doesn’t look like Jaemin is going to let up any time soon, so he surrenders to his fate.

Jaemin is really lucky that Jeno likes him so much, he thinks as he drags himself to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

The morning is hazy, like the city coughed up all its dust in the night and is now waiting for the sunlight to burn it away. Jeno is too delirious to really pay much attention to it but he has to admit that it’s beautiful. The buildings in Dhaka aren’t of the same kind of architecture as in Bangkok or Seoul and the roads are getting lively with people trying to beat the traffic. The smog gives everything a cinematic touch that reminds Jeno of indie movies.

Jaemin is standing a few metres away, pointing his camera at the horizon and trying to capture the scenery. Against the rising sun he’s just a dark silhouette, orange light softening the outline of his body.

Jeno steps behind him, wraps his arms around his middle and rests his chin on his shoulder. The sunlight feels warm on his face but not as warm as Jaemin’s back against his chest.

Jeno closes his eyes. The lack of sight sharpens all his other senses – he can smell the musk of sleep and sweat lingering on Jaemin’s skin, the dust from the road, the ever-present smell of exhaust fumes and spices. There’s the sound of vehicles rattling on the street, the shutter of the camera, birds and people and the breeze. He feels a hand resting on his own.

“You’re clingy when you’re tired,” Jaemin notes quietly. “I should wake you up early more often.”

“Don’t you dare.” Jeno pinches Jaemin’s stomach and he makes a cute noise of protest. “Can we go back to sleep now?”

Jaemin turns around in Jeno’s arms. “You’re going to get your inner time messed up if you go to sleep again. How about we get breakfast instead?”

“Hm. Fine.”

“Thank you for coming up here with me.” Jaemin hugs Jeno, arms wrapped around his shoulders, and they stand there like that until the sun is up.

Dhaka isn’t a city that’s made for tourists. They spend most of the their two days wandering, encountering more friendly locals who offer fruit or just nice conversation. A bunch of teens invite them to play soccer and they do until Jeno feels like his lungs are more dust than anything else. He desperately needs a shower but they’re too far from the hostel now to go back, so he figures he’ll just suffer for a little while longer.

They eventually take a break on a bridge, watching the cargo ships float past on the river. There is a group of kids who climb on them and then jump off of them to cool down in the murky water. Jeno kind of wants to join them.

With the way they are spending this part of the journey, the change in their dynamic feels glaring to Jeno. He’s felt it before, back at home, in Seoul, Hong Kong, Bangkok – but now, with the slowness of everything, it’s tangible.

He wasn’t sure at first. Wasn’t sure if Jaemin really does look at him differently or if it’s just wishful thinking. If the things Jaemin does for him are things he’d do for everyone else, too.

Jeno is more certain now. Allows himself to think about it. Somehow travelling has become less about sight-seeing and more about spending time with Jaemin. Has become less about being away from home and more about staying close to him.

Jeno can feel Jaemin’s gaze linger on him just as often as he catches himself doing the same to him. Sometimes they hold each other’s hands for a little too long. Other times Jaemin gives Jeno extra pieces of his food even though Jeno knows he’s still hungry, and sometimes Jeno turns the air-con down because he knows Jaemin likes the warmth.

They don’t talk about it but Jeno doesn’t need the words. He thinks he already knows. None of them is trying to hide it anymore, knowing it’s a wasted attempt.

It’s not something they can have anyway. Another secret to throw in the ocean.

Textiles are a pretty big thing in Dhaka, they discover. They’ve found themselves in a part of town that is more fabric than anything else, the biting chemical fumes from the wash houses and dyes irritating Jeno’s sinuses. Long lines are spanned between the buildings, overhung by carpets, clothing, blankets, and all kinds of cloths. Jaemin hands him a face mask when they enter one of the alleys and Jeno takes it gratefully.

They eventually find some sort of market. The smells are less strong here, so they take off the masks and inspect the materials on display. People are haggling over prices again, merchants folding up metres and metres of fabric. Other stands offer clothes, finished carpets, shawls and scarfs and tunics, stacked neatly in all shades.

“Hey,” Jaemin says and taps Jeno on the shoulder. He’s holding out a piece of material and Jeno takes it carefully. He was too busy inspecting the shirts, thinking about buying one for Eunjin, to realise what Jaemin was doing.

It’s a small square piece of fabric, like a mini tapestry. On it is a beautifully detailed embroidery of a Bengal tiger sitting on a stone plateau, overviewing the jungle. Jeno runs his fingers over the texture, awestruck by the artistry. 

“For you,” Jaemin says. “Because you are strong and lithe and there aren’t many of your kind in the world. Did you know that every tiger’s pattern is unique? There is no one quite like you, Jeno.”

Jeno’s breath hitches in his chest. “Are you serious?” he asks and looks up. “Didn’t this cost a fortune?”

Jaemin snorts. “Don’t worry about that. Anyways, it’s yours. Isn’t it pretty? I think if you were an animal you’d be a tiger.”

“You think too highly of me,” Jeno replies, flustered. Tigers are beautiful and fascinating animals, culturally significant and rare enough nowadays. He’s never seen one in real life before; he’s never been to a zoo. Maybe he should ask Jaemin if they can visit one sometime but then again, what’s a tiger in captivity?

“Who says I do?” Jaemin grins toothily and Jeno already knows his next words will ruin everything. “What I’m saying is deep down you’re just a large kitten.”

Jeno groans and hides his flushing face in his hands. “You’re terrible.”

Jaemin is still laughing. “I’m kidding. It really did remind me of you, though. Come on, let’s go this way.”

Jeno follows him reluctantly, trying to get his blood flow back under control.

After that Jeno suffers. Jaemin seems to find a sick kind of joy in embarrassing him and keeps calling him random pet names throughout the rest of the day.

Jeno already knew that Jaemin is a fan of cutesy stuff and he’s called Jeno nicknames before, but never with that glint of _intention_ in his eyes. Jaemin _knows_ it flusters him. Jeno would rather not think about what else Jaemin might know.

“The funniest thing is that you still react to it,” Jaemin says gleefully on the way back to their accommodation, one arm slung around Jeno’s shoulders. Turns out not even the smell of sweat and city fumes can repel him. “It’s been hours, Jeno. It’s not a big deal. But no, your ears are still red.”

“You’re the absolute worst,” Jeno grumbles. “I’m flying back home tomorrow. See how much fun Dubai is all by yourself.”

“You’d never leave me.”

Jeno pushes Jaemin away from him. A part of him has to laugh and they both know it, but Jeno doesn’t want to give Jaemin that satisfaction. “Try me.”

“Nooo,” Jaemin whines and wraps his arms around Jeno again. “You know I’ll stop if you seriously tell me to. But I think you secretly want to be called _baby_.”

“And you? What do you want to be called?” Jeno asks, still trying to hide his amusement. He has the feeling he might regret that question.

Jaemin smirks. “How about you call me yours?”

“I – Jaemin!” Jeno groans when Jaemin laughs again. This time Jeno can’t stop himself from giggling, too, even though it’s fuelled by embarrassment. “You’re ridiculous. You have to buy me ice cream tomorrow to make up for my suffering.”

“You know I love spoiling you rotten, my sweet little b-”

Jeno pushes Jaemin away before he can finish that sentence and runs for it. He can hear Jaemin laughing and calling his name behind him – his actual name – but he doesn’t stop. He feels free, knowing Jaemin won’t let him get lost, and he feels light, like even Jaemin’s relentless teasing is underscored by undeniable fondness. It’s exhilarating to know that Jaemin would follow him anywhere, too, and he finds himself laughing so hard that breathing is nearly impossible.

Right now, with his cheeks burning, the hot air rushing over his skin, and Jaemin’s hand reaching for his back, he isn’t scared of a single thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, sorry for the short kind of lame chapter but i hope you liked it anyway! the next one will be more intense i promise~
> 
> find me  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ki_jaemjen)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ki_jaemin)


	6. Dubai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DAK ✈ DXB

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is one of my fav chapters i hope you guys like it too!  
> I was too stressed/tired to edit/proofread this carefully so if you find any mistakes pls let me now~  
> anyways prepare for cheesiness
> 
> songs:  
> fears - twin wild  
> when we were young - lost kings  
> you could be happy - snow patrol  
> bohemian bird - gritzfolk  
> cinema love - patrick martin  
> in your arms - illenium, x ambassadors

_“I don’t think the homesickness of a perpetual wanderer can ever be quenched.” – Sasha Martin_

Dubai feels surreal. Jeno stares up at the Burj Khalifa, thinking about how much money went into it, into every high-rise, the artificial beaches he’s heard of, the luxurious hotels and restaurants and entertainment opportunities. He feels every bit the countryside boy that he is, surrounded by riches. It’s overwhelming, even after being exposed to other big cities for weeks.

It’s also incredibly hot. In June the temperature can rise to forty degrees and in the afternoon of the first day Jeno is practically melting. They visit a mall instead of going exploring outside and escape into its air-conditioned paradise, even though Jeno isn’t a fan of shopping.

They browse through the stores anyway. Jeno tries not to look at Jaemin so much but it’s difficult. Somehow Jaemin doesn’t look out of place. 

Jaemin finds himself a thin bandana and he starts bargaining with the store clerk.

“Do you want one, too?” Jaemin calls over to Jeno and gestures to the piece of fabric. “We’re going to the desert tomorrow and you can use it to protect your face from sand.”

Jeno shrugs. “Sure.”

After a few more times of back and forth, Jaemin seems content with the new price. The poor store clerk looks a little disappointed and Jeno suppresses a smile. It’s hard to say no to Jaemin.

“What are we going to do in the desert?” Jeno asks as Jaemin hands him his bandana. “Isn’t it going to be too hot?”

“We’re leaving early and hopefully there’ll be a bit of a breeze. It’s supposed to be incredible and quiet and we can ride camels or quads and see falcons.” Jaemin grins. “We could try dune surfing, too.”

Jeno smiles back, ignoring the flurry of butterflies in his stomach. “Sounds good.”

The next morning, they get picked up by a truck close to their hotel, with two other guests as company. Jaemin makes small talk with them and tells Jeno they are from France and have never been this far away from home.

The tour guide is friendly and informative. It takes a while until they reach the desert but Jeno can immediately tell that this is worth the visit. Even through the tinted window of the car he can make out the vastness of the landscape, the soft and hard slopes of the sand dunes that are a sharp relief in the morning sun.

The ride in the car is anything but relaxing though; in fact it feels like a rollercoaster when the driver brings them down a steep dune and gets them up on the other side, the sand splashing like it’s made of water and not a million grains. Jaemin laughs and grabs Jeno’s hand, bouncing in his seat next to him, and Jeno finds himself grinning, too.

After a good twenty minutes they arrive at a slightly flatter stretch where a bunch of tents are waiting. The driver halts next to a few similar cars and they get off, the increasing heat immediately clinging to Jeno’s skin. The air is dry and a soft breeze is pulling at his loose clothes as they all follow the guide to the tents.

“Look,” Jaemin says and points to the right. Two men are standing there, huge birds on their arms. “Falcons.”

It feels a little like Jeno stepped into a different world, a different time line, and he’s glad he has Jaemin by his side for this adventure, too.

It’s in the middle of the desert when Jeno realises that he’s in love with Jaemin.

Jaemin is standing a few metres away with his back to Jeno, and his thin white shirt is fluttering in the breeze. He looks like he belongs here, right under the fierce sun, dusted golden with sand and light.

For a moment Jeno can’t feel the heat. Can’t feel the sweat that’s trickling down his spine and gluing his shirt to his chest. Can’t hear the rush of wind or the otherwise deafening silence of the empty desert. Can’t see the endless stretch of sand and the fascinating shapes the wind has formed it into.

He’s looking at Jaemin and something feels different, feels bigger and brighter and more intense. And then Jaemin turns around, smiling, and reaches out his hand as if to say, _come with me_. 

Jeno knows with a certainty that almost scares him that he’d follow Jaemin anywhere. Deep into this desert if he had to. He’s in love with him and he’s as sure of that as he is of the constellations on the night sky. He’s _been_ in love with him, but has only just opened his eyes to see it fully, like a light flickering on, revealing what’s been there all along.

It doesn’t come as a crisis, or a shock, or even a surprise. It’s more of an _oh_.

_Oh, of course._

_It’s you._

He’s looking at Jaemin and it feels like a sunrise.

Jeno smiles. Holds his face into the light. Steps forward and doesn’t care that more sand gets into his shoes because he finds Jaemin’s hand in his own, the way he always does.

“I’m going to have sand in my shoes forever,” Jaemin complains from the entrance of their hotel room where he’s still trying to rid his clothes of desert dust. “But fine. If we go to the beach later there’ll just be more.”

Jeno looks up from his phone, hopeful. The desert adventure and the heat and the realisation tired him out a bit, especially when Jaemin insisted on trying the quads. “The beach?”

“I told you I’d show you the ocean.” Jaemin shrugs. “There’s a public beach not too far from here. I hope it won’t be too crowded. There’s also a slide and stuff.”

“The beach…” Jeno trails off. He’s seen parts of the sea when they’d flown over it, has seen a bit of it in Hong Kong but he’s never been to a beach. Now he’s going to see one in Dubai – with white pearly sand and clear blue water and this beautiful boy by his side who puts him so at ease.

Jaemin gives up trying to clean his shoes and leaves them by the door before he sits down next to Jeno, so close their thighs and shoulders are touching. “You looking forward to it?”

Jeno nods. He doesn’t trust his voice when Jaemin is looking at him like this, like he wants to read every wish off Jeno’s face. For a second Jeno wonders if Jaemin has thought about kissing him, too.

Now really isn’t the best time to be thinking about that.

Jaemin sighs contently and rests his chin on Jeno’s shoulder. “I like having you as my companion.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Everything’s so easy. I don’t feel crowded and I don’t feel alone.”

Jeno allows himself to brush the hair away from Jaemin’s forehead. In the confines of their hotel room, these things come easier, away from curious eyes, away from reality. “Were you lonely often?”

“All the time.”

“But you still did it.”

“It was easier when it was a choice.” Jaemin leans into the touch of Jeno’s hands. “But I’m grateful you’re here with me now.”

“I’m grateful, too.”

Jaemin blinks at him. “That I dragged you away from home?”

“That it’s you who’s showing me the world.”

It’s quiet for a moment, then Jaemin makes a squeaky sound and pushes Jeno into the mattress, flat on his back. “You’re so sappy.”

Jeno scoffs. “ _You_ started this!”

“You were the one who asked all those personal questions!”

“I was just curious!”

Jaemin is about to retort something but instead he breaks into laughter. Jeno realises at some point they started holding hands; Jaemin’s is warm and sweaty but Jeno would never let go if he didn’t have to.

“I’m just happy,” Jaemin says and squeezes Jeno’s hand.

Jeno just smiles back. Jaemin already knows anyway.

“Don’t walk so fast,” Jaemin scolds, a little out of breath as he hangs onto the hem of Jeno’s shirt. “The beach isn’t going to run away.”

Jeno slows down a tiny little bit. Jaemin is right but now that he’s so close he doesn’t want to wait any longer. “What do you have those long legs for when they won’t walk any faster?”

Jaemin whines. “It’s too hot to run. Also your legs are longer!”

“Come _on_!”

Jeno can smell the ocean before he sees it: gritty salt, the tang of seaweed, fried fish from the food stands. He hears it, too: the soft crash of waves against a sand shore, the chatter of tourists who are sunbathing, children playing, seagulls shouting.

They round the last building and then it’s there, stretching before them like a liquid cerulean sky that darkens the further it reaches.

It’s huge. Huge and vast and free. Jeno barely notices the groups of vacationers that lie on sunbeds and towels, under sunshades and in the shadows of the kiosks.

“Come on, rookie,” Jaemin teases with a laugh and pulls Jeno along, down the slope of the path to the fine white sand of the beach. “Don’t you want to play catch with the waves?”

The sand is hot under Jeno’s bare feet when he follows Jaemin to a less crowded part of the beach. It’s quieter here, away from the slide and the bars. Less clean, too, but Jeno doesn’t care, just wants to take in what this all feels like.

It feels like freedom.

Next to him, Jaemin’s rolling out some towels. “If you want to swim, go ahead.”

“You’re not coming?” Jeno looks at him, surprised.

“I’ll watch the bags. Go. I know you want to.”

Jeno wants to. His entire body is tingling with excitement when he walks closer to the shore, feels the clear water tickle his toes.

The shallow water is warmed up from an entire day of sunlight but Jeno walks in a little deeper where it gets colder. The wet sand under his feet gives and it’s a little strange and a little scary. He isn’t a particularly good swimmer, having learnt it in the public pool in town that he used to visit with his family and friends ages ago. This ocean is vast and it’s keeping secrets in the darkness of its body. Jeno stays close to the shore. Close to Jaemin.

“This is amazing,” Jeno exclaims when he gets back to Jaemin, who’s stretched out with his hands behind his head. Jeno can see his own reflection in Jaemin’s sunglasses. “The water is _so_ clear. And it’s so salty and that’s disgusting when you swallow too much but it’s so much fun!”

Jaemin laughs. “You’re not supposed to swallow it.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe I was surprised by a wave. It was kind of scary because you know, I suck at swimming, but it was really –”

“What do you mean, you suck at swimming?” Jaemin sits up and removes his sunglasses to give Jeno a stern look.

Jeno shrugs. “I’m just not very good at it.”

Jaemin’s expression immediately changes into worried. “You – you didn’t tell me! Oh my God, Jeno, what if you’d drowned right in front of my eyes, what the –”

“It’s fine.” Jeno kneels down on the towel next to Jaemin and takes his hands into his. “I was careful.”

“I told you that you have to tell me these things!”

He’s surprised to see how genuinely scared Jaemin looks. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It’s not like I can’t swim at all.”

“You’re not going into the water without me again,” Jaemin insists. “You’re not going to die on my watch.”

“Nana, it’s fine.”

Jaemin blinks up at him. “Nana?”

“Oh.” It’s nothing special, but Jeno flushes anyway. “It’s, um, what I call you in my texts. To shorten your name.”

“Oh.” Jaemin looks away, slightly flustered, too. “That’s… very sweet.”

“I can stop calling you th–”

“No! No. Please don’t. It’s adorable, I… anyways! Don’t distract, you’re not going back into the water by yourself. I’ll teach you how to swim if I have to.”

“Fine. Anyways. Your turn.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“You must be boiling. I swear I won’t die on land.”

Jaemin snorts. “Of sunburn maybe. Get over here and let me put some sunscreen on your back.”

Jeno does as he’s told, sitting cross-legged in front of Jaemin, facing the ocean. With the sun beating down on the earth like this the water on his skin has almost completely dried already.

Jeno sucks in a breath when Jaemin puts his hands on his shoulders. The sunscreen is cold and Jeno isn’t used to Jaemin touching his bare skin like this, even if it’s just for sun protection. It feels different, the way Jaemin trails his fingers down Jeno’s spine, and suddenly Jeno has goose-bumps for a different reason.

“You’re so sensitive,” Jaemin says and giggles when Jeno shivers.

Jeno bristles. “Leave me alone.”

“Alright.” Jaemin slaps his hands against Jeno’s shoulder blades and gets up. “All done.”

“Don’t drown,” Jeno tells him. He has to squint up at him and the sunlight forms a golden halo around Jaemin’s head, like he’s part human and part celestial being. Maybe he’s not real after all.

“I won’t,” Jaemin says. “Someone has to take care of you, right?”

Jeno watches Jaemin for a while, how he dives and swims much further than Jeno did. His hair looks black when it’s wet, the shirt he’s wearing for sun protection sticking to his lithe form. He watches how he talks to a group of kids who invite him to play ball with them.

Jaemin is so easy around people when he wants to be. It’s a bit of a miracle to Jeno. He chats strangers up and makes them like him and then gets them to leave their houses to follow him around the world. Some of them, Jeno thinks, even fall in love with him despite knowing better.

Jeno shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about the inevitable goodbye, not when he could be watching Jaemin play with the waves instead. Goodbye doesn’t exist here. It’s just the beach and the sun and Jaemin. Just the feeling of liquid golden light swirling through Jeno’s ribcage.

This is life. This is what it should feel like. He’s spent twenty-one years thinking he was content when it now seems like he’s never even known happiness.

But he does now. No one can take these experiences away from him, the memories, the pictures.

Travelling changes you, Jaemin had said. It’s true. With every new country, Jeno learns a little bit about himself. Discovers sides he’s never looked for before. He learns things about the cities and culture and Jaemin, about people, about homesickness and longing and love.

If it’s like this, Jeno doesn’t mind being changed at all.

Jaemin gets them a locker in the hotel when he comes back, where they store their things and then they go on the slide. Jeno feels a little strange being one of the only sort-of-adults next to a bunch of children but it’s too much fun to regret. Jaemin takes him by the hand and sometimes pushes him down the slide before he’s ready with a sneaky laugh, sometimes sits behind Jeno, knees locked on his hips, his now naked chest pressed against Jeno’s bare back.

Skin feels strange underwater. Softer somehow, and colder. Jaemin dives and circles him like a shark and Jeno reaches for him, catches his slippery shoulder, slides his fingers over his spine. It feels weird and Jeno can’t stop laughing, not even when Jaemin picks him up and throws him back into the water. Somehow Jaemin’s hand always finds its way back to his own.

It’s tiring and the salt water makes Jeno’s hair dry and it’s so damn hot, but he’s never felt so free. Every time Jaemin touches him is another rush; every time he scans the endless horizon, every breathless smile.

They eventually take a break to get a bit of food at one of the kiosks. The price is outrageous but the hunger makes them pay it anyway. Plus, they get to sit on high stools in the shadow with an ocean view.

“Are you having fun?” Jaemin asks.

“The time of my life,” Jeno gives back.

Jaemin grins. “The sun is setting soon. We should get our phones and go back to the quiet side of the beach. I’ll take some pictures of you to send to your mum.”

“We should take some of us together, too,” Jeno replies.

“We should.”

“Are _you_ having fun?”

Jaemin looks at him with a nonchalant smile. “The time of my life.”

It feels nice to watch a sunset for a change. It’s not like Jeno is any less tired; in fact, he thinks the jet lag might just be part of his person by now.

But there’s something romantic about it. About sitting on the still warm sand with the person you want to spend all your time with, waiting for the sun to make space for a smattering of stars. The two of them are quiet and only point out the occasional observation.

Finally, the sun touches the horizon. The sea. The reflection of the orange light on the water and the wet sand looks like molten glass.

“It’s like someone pierced the sun,” Jeno whispers. “And now all the light is running into the ocean like golden ink.”

“Dubai is also called the city of gold,” Jaemin replies. “You like lights. Things that shine.”

Jeno glances at Jaemin. _How could I not_ , he almost says, _how could I not when you’re the brightest of them all_. “Yeah.”

“I like it, too. The sun. The moon and the stars. You remind me of the moon, sometimes.”

“Hm? Why?”

“You don’t ask for attention like the sun and you shine all by yourself, quietly. It’s like… you’re a guardian angel made of silver, Jeno. The moon kissed you when you were born and then placed you in my path.”

Jeno wrinkles his nose. “I didn’t know you could be this poetic.”

“I’m just telling you my thoughts.”

“Hm. If I’m the moon then you’re the sun. Brilliant and warm and… necessary.”

Jaemin laughs and pushes his shoulder against Jeno’s. “I’m not necessary.”

“To me you are.” Jeno feels exposed, having confessed that. “If you’re not the sun then what are you?”

“I’m a firefly,” Jaemin says. “You can’t catch me. If you do I’ll stop glowing.”

Then he jumps up and dances away from Jeno with a playful smile, arms outstretched like he’s trying to hug the setting sun, and runs down the strip of beach with sand flying up behind him.

Pure joy, Jeno thinks as he watches him jump and tiptoe the water, the dark waves teasing around his ankles. Pure life.

Jaemin doesn’t look like something that can or should be caught. He wouldn’t shine the way he does now, like he’s serious competition for the sun. Not a firefly. Something more. Something golden. Something uncontainable, something you cannot hold in the palm of your hands unless given permission to. An ocean of light.

Jeno grins and digs his toes into the warm sand. He doesn’t need to catch him anyway. Not when Jaemin comes back to him, out of breath, a shiny sea shell in his outstretched hand.

“Found something,” he pants.

 _Found something_.

 _Me, too_ , Jeno thinks. _Me, too_.

They sit at the beach until the moon has risen, the last trace of the day being the blood orange glow of the horizon. The silence is comfortable, filled with the quiet flush of the waves against the shore, a last few seagulls, and distant chatter from people heading home. Jeno still feels like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. It’s just him and Jaemin at this endless beach and the secrets that are so much closer to the surface at night. Easily reachable, if one just asks.

Sometimes you don’t even have to ask.

Jaemin is looking at him now. Jeno can feel his gaze on his skin, the significance of that gaze, and Jeno’s working up the courage to return that look. He knows what it means. What their intertwined fingers mean. The way Jaemin’s eyes track his path around any room, the way Jeno finds Jaemin’s face in any crowd, like he has an internal compass leading him to him.

Jeno looks up. Jaemin’s face is so close, his expression so gentle, and all Jeno really wants to do is kiss him but he can’t. He’s frozen with the intensity of the moment. He feels the stars watching them. Fate playing with its red string.

 _You know that I’m in love with you, don’t you_ , Jaemin’s eyes seem to say.

Jeno wonders if Jaemin can see the answer in his. _Yes, I’m yours_ …

Jaemin sighs contently and rests his head on Jeno’s shoulder. They listen to the sea whisper its secrets a bit longer and bask in each other’s presence. The ache in Jeno’s chest is almost unbearable and welcome at once.

Eventually Jaemin says, “Let’s go home, star boy.”

Somewhere between connecting flights and exchanged currencies and foreign languages, home has become a warm hand to hold. Home has become a smile shared after dark, the familiar slope of Jaemin’s shoulders, the rise of the same sun on different horizons.

“Let’s go home,” Jeno says and lets Jaemin pull him up. 

“The city of gold,” Jaemin exclaims and spins around himself.

It’s not difficult to believe, standing in the middle of this market. There’s so much shimmering metal here that Jeno is starting to feel slightly dizzy.

“But you’re the only golden thing that’s precious to me,” Jaemin continues and smiles sweetly, bumping his hip against Jeno’s.

“You smooth bastard.” Jeno rolls his eyes and laughs. “What are we even doing here? It’s not like we can afford anything.”

“The travel guide said it’s worth a look around,” Jaemin gives back. “Sightseeing, Jen! Culture! We can get some traditional food later.”

Jeno hooks his hand into the crook of Jaemin’s elbow. “I just want to spend time with you.”

“Which you can do. All day. While appreciating the insane miracles Dubai has to offer.”

“Hm…”

Jaemin snorts. “Sometimes I forget you’re a homebody. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“To be honest, traditional food does sound good…”

“Food really is the way to your heart, huh?”

Jeno suppresses the urge to say something like, _your smile is the way to my heart_. “I guess so.”

Jaemin gives him a sly grin. “I can cook, you know? We should, I don’t know, get a place with a kitchen somewhere and then I’ll cook for you.”

Jeno stares at him. “Literally how are you even real?”

“Who says I am?” Jaemin prods his finger into Jeno’s side. “Come on, let’s go get some lunch.”

Jeno follows him through the crowd and thinks about Jaemin being nothing but a dream.

Jeno has been with Jaemin for quite a few weeks now but there are still things about him that Jeno just doesn’t understand. He never sees him contacting friends or family, sees him parting the crowd all by himself. He can make easy conversation with a bunch of strangers who don’t even speak the same language but he never actually seems to be networking with people back home.

“Don’t you miss your friends?” Jeno asks when they’ve sat down outside to watch the busy city life of Dubai. It’s stifling hot even in the shadow and Jeno feels sweat trickling down his back. On the third and last full day here he’s sort of accepted his fate. “Don’t they miss you?”

Jaemin shrugs. “I don’t know. I haven’t really spoken to them in months.”

“What?”

Jaemin ducks his head sheepishly. “I, uh, didn’t really tell them about my plans. I just said bye and left. I don’t think they miss me anymore if they ever did in the first place.”

“Jaemin!” Jeno is appalled. “You can’t do that to people who care about you!”

“Well…”

“Come on.” Jeno gets up and tugs Jaemin with him.

“What –”

“You’re going to call them now. It’s too hot out here anyways.”

Jeno drags them back to the hotel. The air-conditioned room makes him sigh in relief and almost distracts him but then he catches Jaemin’s eyes. “Who’s your closest friend back home?”

Jaemin sits down on his bed. “I think… Jaehyun, probably.”

“Okay. Call him.”

“He’s not my best friend or anything but he was my first friend when I came to the UK and… I think I miss hanging out with him sometimes.”

“Okay.”

“Also –”

“Jaemin. Just do it.”

“He’s not going to care. He probably won’t even pick up.”

“Give it a try?”

“I don’t think there’s a point, really –” 

Jeno sits down next to him and takes his hand. “What are you so scared of? It’s your friend. He might be really happy to hear from you.”

“He wouldn’t –”

“Tell me the truth, please. It’s just me.”

It’s quiet for a second and Jeno can almost hear Jaemin weighing his options, calculating risks. It makes him a little sad – the fact that he doesn’t have the entirety of Jaemin’s trust, even after all these small individual journeys together and all the spilled secrets. That even though that invisible string seems to bind them more strongly each day, there are secrets Jaemin holds too close to his chest.

“He might think I’ve been really selfish,” Jaemin relents quietly.

“Because you left?”

“Yeah.”

“He’ll understand if you explain it to him.”

“What, that I was too much of a coward to tell anyone I was planning on leaving? That no one was good enough to get me to stay? He’d never –”

“Nana.”

Jaemin takes a deep breath. He’s avoiding Jeno’s gaze, so Jeno hugs him, carefully, around the waist. Jaemin relaxes a little at the touch like he’s wax in Jeno’s warm hands.

“I’m not going to force you,” Jeno says, cheek squished against Jaemin’s shoulder. “But I think it would be good for you. Just to see that there is someone familiar you can come back to if you ever decide to go home.”

It’s strange to use the word ‘home’ with Jaemin. It seems like a somewhat sensitive topic and Jeno still wonders if maybe Jaemin did have a reason to leave, one he isn’t telling Jeno.

With the way Jaemin’s hesitating, he seems to feel it too. He doesn’t say anything about it, though, just leans into Jeno’s side and then replies, “I trust you.”

 _How much_ , Jeno wants to ask. _How much more do you have to trust me to show me the inside of your beautiful heart?_ But he doesn’t. It’s a question for another three am night where none of them can sleep.

Jeno lets go of Jaemin and gets up. “I’ll give you space.”

Jaemin bites his lip. “Stay close please? I want to introduce you.”

“Okay.”

Jaemin picks up his phone, sighs and taps something. Jeno vanishes into the adjacent bathroom and busies himself with his own phone. Maybe he should call Eunjin after this. Or Hyuck. He misses them.

Through the door and over the hum of the air-con he can hear Jaemin greet someone. He tries not to eavesdrop but it’s hard when there’s not much else to do. He only catches keywords anyway, things like ‘travel’ and ‘work’. He hopes it was the right thing to make Jaemin do this; then again he doesn’t know why it wouldn’t be. His friends must have missed Jaemin, especially when he vanished just like that.

There’s a soft knock on the door a few minutes later. “Jeno?”

Jeno gets up from the tiles and opens. Jaemin is standing in the room, the hand with his phone extended as if to take a selfie, looking nervous and a little bit tense.

Jaemin waves him closer with the other hand, then grabs Jeno by the wrist to pull him against his side. The phone screen shows a cheery guy with brunette hair and a stunning set of dimples.

“This is Jaehyun,” Jaemin explains. “Jaehyun, this is Jeno.”

Jaehyun smiles. “You must be nuts to travel with this guy, Jeno.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jeno replies. Jaemin is practically vibrating next to him and he’s going to ask him about it, once they’ve hung up.

“I heard you’re the one who made him call,” Jaehyun continues. “Thank you for that. I want to be angry at him but at the same time I’m just happy he’s alright. And that he’s not alone. Plus with a face like that it’s difficult to stay mad.”

Jeno levels Jaemin with a look. “See, I told you people cared about you.”

They chat a bit more and Jeno finds it fascinating how different Jaemin is when talking to his friend. He lets himself be teased and teases back and he laughs a lot but Jeno can’t tell if this is the real him or just him pretending to be real. It makes Jeno aware of how little he actually knows about where Jaemin comes from. About the life he had before he started travelling. Maybe those are the secrets Jeno should be asking for.

They hang up eventually and Jaemin lets himself fall backwards on the mattress, spread-eagle, staring at the ceiling. His eyes are shimmering, lips quirked in an almost-frown and he looks strangely emotional.

“Was this a good idea?” Jeno asks and sits down next to him.

“It was,” Jaemin confirms. “I think I do miss my friends, sometimes.”

 _But not enough to go back_ , he doesn’t have to say.

“You seemed nervous talking to him,” Jeno says carefully.

“Because I was. I haven’t talked to him in ages.”

“He was happy to talk to you, though.”

Jaemin sighs and Jeno watches his chest deflate. “Yeah, but I – so much is different. I’m not the same person as I was when I left, you know? I’m not who he still thinks I am. And it feels weird to talk to him because it pulls me back into that – that mould that I was in back there. Like a pre-shaped form of me, but it doesn’t quite fit.”

“You could tell him about it.”

“Not all people are like you, Jen,” Jaemin says softly. “Not everyone understands.”

“What about your parents?”

“I send them emails and texts sometimes to let them know I’m fine. But we don’t really talk, or anything.”

Jeno lies down next to Jaemin, slowly, as if Jaemin might startle. “Can I ask why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why you avoid everything that ties you to your home.”

Jaemin stays quiet and when Jeno glances at him he’s closed his eyes. He’s not going to answer that, Jeno thinks, but then he does. “I think… I think I just want to know who I am when everything that belongs to me is stripped away. You know, what’s left of me, then? I don’t know, something like that. I just wanted to be free of it all for a while. It felt too… constricting.”

“I think that’s very wise.” It’s true. Jeno, who’s never been this far away from home, has felt lost at first. None of his steady constants were around, Jaemin aside. And Jaemin doesn’t really count. “Have you found an answer yet? To who you are?”

Jaemin opens his eyes and looks at Jeno intently. “I might have.”

Jeno waits but he doesn’t say anything else, and despite all his questions he doesn’t want to push it. Instead he takes Jaemin’s hand and squeezes it briefly. Jaemin squeezes back before he suddenly swings his leg over Jeno’s, pulling him closer with one hand until they’re snuggled up against each other.

“Jaemin –”

“Thank you for making me do this,” Jaemin mumbles against his skin. “Sometimes it feels like you’re the better part of me.”

The words feel like warm honey on Jeno’s throat. Feeling like he’s not the only one who feels this way when they’re together. “I’m not. You’re great all by yourself.”

“Maybe. But with you, I’m better.”

“Shut up.” Jeno pushes Jaemin and rolls away from him. “God, you’re a furnace.”

“I bet you wouldn’t complain about that in the winter.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not winter and it’s like 38 degrees outside.”

“You’re so ungrateful. Want to get ice cream?”

“Always.”

Watching Jaemin roam the streets, Jeno can see that he’s is a flyaway person. Someone who has nothing grounding him. He can see it in the way he looks at the houses and families, hears it in the way he talks about his parents like they’re estranged relatives.

He’ll never be someone to keep, Jeno thinks. Even in a reality in which they wouldn’t end up living so far apart, it wouldn’t be one in which Jaemin would stay with him. For a while maybe. Perhaps even for a long while.

But eventually, Jaemin would fly away from him again, seeking the next adventure, following his nomad heart back into the world.

Jeno looks at him now, his broad shoulders, the long line of his back that is always so warm under his hands. The slight breeze plays with his hair and ruffles through it the way Jeno wishes he could, sometimes. As beautiful as he is, though, Jaemin’s heart will always be more beautiful. His mind. The way he thinks about the world and people, always looking for the bright side despite his rationality.

He has a beautiful heart and he is kind and he is the closest to home Jeno will ever be, so far away from his origin.

But Jeno has to remember this: that ultimately, he’s always going to have to say goodbye to Jaemin, no matter how easy it is to say yes to yet another stop. All journeys end, even this one.

Even this.

“Are you looking forward to Europe?” Jaemin asks as he fastens his seatbelt.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jeno replies. "Aren't all countries in Europe kind of the same?"

Jaemin gasps dramatically. "Don't say that to a European or you'll get stabbed. And it’s also not true."

“No?”

“No. You’ll see.”

“Have you been to Hungary before?”

“No, but I’m sure it’s wildly different from the UK.”

“What’s the UK like, then?”

Jaemin bites his bottom lip as he thinks about that. “Rainy. People are a different kind of polite.”

“That doesn’t that great. Is that why you left?”

Jaemin shakes his head. “I left because I felt that there was a boy hidden in a village who needed to be freed from himself.”

“Ugh, shut up.” Jeno pushes Jaemin’s grabby hands away but they’re both laughing.

Maybe someday, Jaemin will tell him the truth, even if it’s in the form of a secret.

**  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading <3 pls let me know what you think!
> 
> find me  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ki_jaemjen)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ki_jaemin)


	7. Budapest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DXB ✈ BUD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes this is another interlude im sorry i swear this is the second to last short chapter!! 
> 
> songs:  
> half light - banners  
> found my way - mark diamond  
> up we go - imagine future  
> maple whiskey - james spaite 
> 
> Enjoy!

_“We are bound by the secrets we share.” – Zoe Heller_

They have a two-day stop in Budapest with a hotel room close to the airport. Really, Jeno would be fine with just sleeping there for twenty-four hours after the six hour flight and the struggle through immigration. Of course Jaemin isn’t a huge fan of the idea but he does agree to crash in their room for a while and then go out to get dinner somewhere.

Hotel check-in is a haze. As soon as they reach said room Jeno throws himself on the double bed, barely managing to kick off his shoes, and knocks out.

He wakes up to Jaemin playing with his hair, lying opposite of him. He doesn’t say anything and Jaemin doesn’t stop, keeps carding his fingers through his black strands. Perhaps Jeno is still too sleepy or maybe it’s just the mess in his mind but the moment feels significant somehow. Jeno doesn’t want to break the silence, so he keeps still and searches Jaemin’s face for answers.

“Your hair is so soft,” Jaemin says under his breath. “You don’t always look like it, but you’re soft, too. Most of the time.”

Jeno isn’t sure what to say to that. He doesn’t have the words right now to give Jaemin an eloquent reply; Jaemin _looks_ soft, with his gentle smiling cat mouth, the button nose, the big dark eyes that are so often full of kindness and undivided attention – his entire build suggests gentleness.

But Jaemin has drive, the kind that pushes him forward and out into the world, and he’s competitive and fierce and so charming that sometimes you won’t notice you’ve given him what he wants until it’s too late.

Jaemin is an indescribable mix of things, Jeno thinks. Traits that shouldn’t go as well together as they do. But he figures that makes Jaemin so unique and intriguing. It just so happens that it also makes them compatible.

When Jeno blinks himself out of his thoughts Jaemin is smiling down at him. “Still dreaming, village boy?”

Jeno doesn’t answer and reaches up. Jaemin lets him take his wrist and bring it down to Jeno’s face, where Jeno carefully presses his mouth to the back of his hand. He doesn’t know where that bravery came from; it just felt necessary, to give Jaemin this small moment of affection. He notices how Jaemin draws in a breath and he lets go of his hand again.

It’s quiet for a few heartbeats. Then, slowly, Jaemin leans down and kisses Jeno’s temple. “Are you hungry?”

That’s the cue. The moment dissolves and Jeno sits up, rubbing the last bit of sleep out of his eyes. “A little.”

“Then let’s go see Budapest.”

The evening is pleasantly warm. This far from the city centre, there are really just the overpriced airport restaurants but Jeno enjoyed the food anyway, perhaps because he was too hungry to care.

They’re outside now, listening to the distinct sound of airplanes hurtling down the runway and the voices of people arriving and leaving. The sky is a soft hue of orange and Jeno looks at it now, wondering what his family is up to. Wonders if they miss him or if they’ve filled the space he left behind with something else already.

It’s not all that long anymore until he sees them again, he thinks, tracing the route of a landing plane with his eyes. A part of him can’t wait but another part, the bigger one, aches at the thought because of everything it entails.

“Hey,” Jaemin says softly. “Wanna go back inside?”

Jeno nods and lets Jaemin pull him up. He doesn’t let go of Jeno’s wrist even when they’re walking through the lobby and Jeno is grateful for it, the touch grounding and calming at once. Like always, it’s Na Jaemin, his lighthouse in the surf.

Jeno wonders if he’ll find his way home even without him. 

They can’t sleep. Jeno can tell Jaemin is still awake by the pace of his breathing and he keeps moving around like he’s trying to get comfortable.

Jeno himself feels like dead weight, body heavy and slow with fatigue, but his mind won’t shut up. His eyes are used to the dark now and he can make out the shape of Jaemin where he’s lying next to him, flat on his stomach, with the moonlight glinting on the armlet and the other silver wristband he often wears. Jeno reaches out to touch it and feels Jaemin looking at him when he does. It’s smooth and pretty, warm from Jaemin’s body heat.

“Can’t sleep?” Jaemin asks. His voice is a bit rough, like gritty sanding paper, but Jeno likes it.

“Mhm. You?”

“Neither.”

“Does this bracelet mean anything?” Jeno asks quietly.

“Hmm? Oh, this? Yeah, uh, my best friend gave it to me.”

“Jaehyun?”

Jaemin shakes his head. “Someone else.”

“Why didn’t you call them? Back in Dubai?”

“Because he’s not my best friend anymore.” Jaemin lifts his hand before Jeno can say anything. “Wasn’t even before I left.”

“But you still wear it.”

“Yeah. Call me sentimental, but you know, just because he’s changed – that doesn’t erase all the years that he’s been my best friend. People come and people go. I know that. So I cherish the memories. When he gave this to me I said I’d wear it until it falls apart, so that’s what I’m doing.”

Jeno briefly wonders if that’s what will happen to them – if they’ll become a fond memory in each other’s minds. If Jaemin will look at the bangle and remember him, Lee Jeno, travel companion and nothing else.

Jeno reaches out and runs his fingertip over the silver chain again. “You’re a beautiful person, Na Jaemin.”

Jaemin doesn’t say anything, just watches Jeno play with the bracelet.

“Do you want to tell me about him?”

There’s a short, heavy pause before Jaemin speaks again. “His name was Renjun. _Is_. He’s not dead, or at least I hope he isn’t. I keep talking about him like he’s died tragically –”

“It’s okay.”

Jaemin puffs his cheeks and exhales. “So his name’s Renjun and he was my best friend since primary school. We were the only Asian kids in our class, so we stuck together. He didn’t like me at first but I have a way of crawling into people’s hearts when they aren’t looking.”

Jaemin smiles, like he knows exactly that he’s done the same to Jeno. He doubts Jaemin knows the extent of it, though. He grew roots so deep in Jeno’s ribcage Jeno is not sure he’ll ever get all of him out.

“He’s really short but he doesn’t take shit from anyone. A lot of the taller guys in high school were scared of him but would never admit it and Renjun being Renjun used that to his advantage. By extension, it was my advantage, too. I don’t know, there were many things I appreciated about him. He was always about no bullshit, you know? Just brutal honesty, whether I liked it or not. But he was a good listener, too, and he was really funny. In a savage way. Anyways. We went to different universities. He might still be studying for all I know, I don’t know how long it takes to get a degree in physics.”

“He sounds like someone to be reckoned with,” Jeno says. “Did you just lose contact or…?”

Jaemin shrugs. “He got himself a boyfriend and, uh… recalibrated his priorities, I guess. I wasn’t one of them anymore. I kind of understand but then again I don’t, because I managed uni _and_ being his friend just fine. But I don’t know, he changed, got really distant, and that was it. He just slipped away. I’m okay with it now.”

He must have meant a lot to Jaemin if talking about him gets him like this, Jeno thinks, all soft and vulnerable, cracked open like an oyster shell.

“Some people are only meant to be there for part of the journey, I guess,” Jeno says and immediately regrets it. The words feel like a knife twisted between his own ribs, the core truth of everything they did and will do, always ending like this – just part of the journey.

“I was hoping he’d be part of mine for longer,” Jaemin says. “But maybe other people will be.” _I hope you will be…_

“Would you have left even if he’d still been your best friend?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin says. “But it would’ve been harder.”

The questions hurt. _Will it be hard to leave me? Will it be impossible? Will it be easy? How are you so okay with always cutting yourself off from people, even those that meant so much –_

“You’re a really good listener, Jeno.”

“Thank you.”

“What about your best friend?”

“You’ve met him. It’s Hyuck. And you’ve met Jisung. Honestly, you’ve met everyone who’s important in my life.”

“I feel privileged.” Jaemin turns a little, wiggling into the comfort of the blanket. “I liked Hyuck. He seemed fun and… a little protective of you.”

“Well, he is. We – Hyuck, Jisung, and I – kind of grew up like brothers. All our parents are friends. They’re family to me and I am to them, so… it just makes sense.”

“That’s really nice. Having a chosen family.”

They stay up and talk like this until the sun rises outside. Jaemin opens the curtains to watch how the first light sneaks over the horizon and Jeno stands behind him, chin hooked over his shoulder and eyes closed. He can feel the warmth of the sunlight, promising a dry hot day already, but he prefers the warmth of Jaemin’s back against his chest, his soft stomach under his linked hands. He prefers Jaemin over anything, really.

After that, they go back to bed and lie down together on Jaemin’s side of it.

Sleep comes a little easier then. Maybe it’s the way Jaemin paints flowers and patters on Jeno’s bare back with his fingertips. Maybe it’s the thought of having Jaemin this close for another three weeks, comforting like a mother’s hug and a goodnight kiss.

Jeno falls asleep with Jaemin’s head pillowed on his sternum, the fingers of his right hand curled over his heart. If anything, Jeno hopes he’ll get to keep this memory for a long time, true and untinged by regret or sadness.

They drag themselves out of bed in the late morning. The night has left Jeno with no concept of time and he’s disoriented for a while, the fatigue making his brain sluggish. The flight to Verona isn’t until the early evening but they have to check out, so they leave their luggage at the reception to explore the city.

After arriving in the city centre and having a quick brunch in a small café, they wander the streets. Budapest is built by a river, so Jaemin leads them there to take a ferry. It reminds Jeno of the trip in the star ferry in Hong Kong, except this skyline is so vastly different – all sand-coloured buildings that spread out over the land, much smaller and less bright, but still stunning. It has the kind of European flair that Jeno knows from movies. Over a pair of earphones he hears a male monotone voice that tells him about history and sight-seeing spots and all the things that make Budapest unique, but he isn’t really listening.

He’s watching the glimmer of the June sun on the rippling surface of the Danube and lets himself zone out, not thinking about anything. He doesn’t want to think, for once. Just wants to enjoy the time that’s still left in yet another city he might never visit again.

That’s something he’s learnt on these travels, something Jaemin has taught Jeno without even knowing – how to give in to these moments and take them as gifts.

They eat Hungarian goulash in a small restaurant close to their hotel in the late afternoon. They’ve spent the day hunting down some of the more famous attractions – the Buda embankment, the city park, museum mile. It’s a beautiful city and Jeno would have loved to have more time in it but right now he’s starving and the soft meat in the goulash tastes amazing.

“So,” Jaemin says and leans back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. “Do you like Europe so far?”

Europe is very strange, Jeno thinks. People are strange here. Most of them don't apologise when they run into you and they eat by themselves, often hurriedly, and they use very different spices in their food. But then again, they are just people and those stay the same everywhere.

“It’s interesting,” Jeno says. “Different than home but not in a bad way.”

But there is something Jeno can’t say. It’s strange to be in Europe, knowing Jaemin is so close to his home. So close to his destination when Jeno is miles and miles away from his. It’s so surreal to think that Jaemin could go see his parents in just a few hours if he really wanted to.

It scares him. That Jaemin’s destination is already so near, the shore in sight when all Jeno wants to do is sail a little longer.

“Are you looking forward to going home?” Jaemin asks, voice cautious like he knows it’s a dangerous question.

“A little,” Jeno replies. He doesn’t think he could explain the full answer with all its implications even if he tried. “Do you?”

Jaemin looks away from him, down at his plate. “No. I don’t think I can even call it home anymore.”

“But it’s where you grew up, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but… that isn’t what makes a place a home, is it? It’s just a location. Where you started out, if you will. But a home… that’s something you’d always want to go back to. Somewhere you want to stay. I – I don’t really want to stay anywhere.”

“Maybe not yet,” Jeno says gently. “Are you worried about it?”

Jaemin nods. “I didn’t use to care.”

“What changed?”

Jaemin doesn’t answer, just looks at Jeno. Sometimes it’s so hard to tell what Jaemin is thinking about; despite having spent months with him Jeno still can’t read him if Jaemin hides his feelings like this, behind a pleasantly blank mask.

Jeno wonders if Jaemin wants to stay with him, too, just a bit longer. If the goodbye is going to be just as hard for him, or if maybe Jeno is just another companion he’ll leave behind. Jeno likes to think this connection between them is special, exclusive, but they never talk about it and there is no way to know unless he asks. And he won’t.

“You know how I told you that travelling changes you, right?” Jaemin asks and waits for Jeno to nod. “I meant that, but – nothing has changed me as much as you did.”

Jeno blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe it’s because we’re so different. But you… you’ve actually taught me a lot, Jeno. About myself and other things. Life, I guess. I’m grateful for that.”

Jaemin’s eyes are earnest when they look at each other.

“You taught me a lot, too,” Jeno says. _More than you can imagine_. _More than you should have._

Jaemin smiles, all teeth and light. “Italy tomorrow. Camping. Are you looking forward to it?”

“I am, actually,” Jeno replies. He wants to hold Jaemin’s hand, so he does, just for a moment. “You said you’d cook for me if we had a place with a kitchen.”

Jaemin laughs. “Of course you wouldn’t forget that. Sure I will. Just keep your expectations low.”

“I’m sure you’ll blow me away with your culinary skills.”

“I’ll try my best.” Jaemin smiles at him again. “Come on, let’s get our stuff.”

Flying is almost a routine by now. The city lights glisten and then vanish below the clouds when the plane lifts off, rising into the sky. Jeno never gets tired of seeing it.

“If I could somehow contain a million tiny lights in a glass for you, I would,” Jaemin says fondly, watching him.

 _You wouldn’t have to_ , Jeno wants to say, _as long as I have you_. But he doesn’t. He smiles instead and leans his head on Jaemin’s shoulder, closing his eyes. When he falls asleep he dreams of a sunset and Jaemin holding his hand but he’s slipping away, further and further away, no matter how hard Jeno tries to hold on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're halfway there my dudes~ Thank you so much for reading, let me know what you think! <3
> 
>   
> talk to me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ki_jaemjen)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ki_jaemin)


	8. Verona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BUD ✈ VRN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs:  
> my soul i - anna leone  
> new constellations - ryn weaver  
> sunshine - keaton stromberg  
> boats and birds - streetlight eyes

_“In the space, the pause between this breath and the one that follows, you have made a home inside me.” – Tyler Knott Gregson_

There’s something simplistic about the prospect of camping with Jaemin. They’ve rented an old caravan with a bed that’s too short and a ceiling that’s so low that Jeno knocks his head against it upon entering and at first they can’t figure out how the stove works, but it’s lovely. They have the Garda Lake not even a three minute walk away from their little new home and when both of them are crammed together on the mattress, ready to sleep, Jaemin looks at Jeno with glistening eyes and says, “Tell me a secret.”

Jeno looks back at him for a long moment, at the familiar dark shape of him. Telling Jaemin secrets is easier now, in a way, even though there are some Jeno doesn’t think he’ll ever say out loud. “I miss my mum so much. But at the same time I’m scared to go back.”

“Why are you scared?”

“Because it won’t be the same.” Jeno exhales. “Your turn.”

“Hm. I feel far away from everything no matter where I am. So detached somehow,” Jaemin says. “But when I’m with you, I’m just here. In the present.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Jeno knows Jaemin must be smiling, even though he can’t see it in the dark. “It’s the best thing, Jen.”

“Oh.”

“You’re sleepy, hm? Goodnight,” Jaemin whispers and Jeno closes his eyes, lets himself shift closer to Jaemin despite the warmth of their first Italian summer night.

“…Jeno.”

“Mhm.”

“Jeno, wake up.”

“Huh?”

Jeno opens his eyes to see Jaemin’s smiling face.

“Good morning,” Jaemin says. “Did you sleep well?”

He did. He blames it on the exhaustion from having travelled all day but if he’s honest, he always sleeps well next to Jaemin. “Mhm, you?”

“Yeah. Let’s get up and get some groceries before it’s too hot and then we can check out the lake.”

Jeno sighs and rolls onto his back. “How are you so energetic in the morning?”

“It’s the world calling my name,” Jaemin says and grins again, sitting up to pull Jeno with him. “There’s so much to see and we only have so much time.”

_We only have so much time._

That gets Jeno out of bed.

They spend the morning at the little supermarket near the camping site to stock up on some essentials and necessities.

(“Coffee isn’t a necessity, Nana,” Jeno says, watching Jaemin sniff different grounds, and Jaemin gasps dramatically. “This shit is super expensive.”

“This is _Italy_ , Jeno! _Not_ getting coffee would be stupid!”)

By the time they’re back at the caravan, the sun has risen high in the sky, burning the earth to a crisp, and they don’t even bother wearing shirts anymore. Jaemin seems to soak up the warmth while Jeno sits in the shade, and something about it, the domesticity, the calmness, it all makes Jeno feel as if there is no deadline hurtling towards them anymore.

Time unhinges like this. They buy a cheap air mattress at the reception of the camping park, their kind neighbours lend them a pump to inflate it, and then they go to the pebbled beach at the lake.

The water is cool when Jeno dips his toes into it, a welcome refresher in the dry heat, but he doesn’t get to enjoy the moment for long – Jaemin barrels straight into him and pushes him into the water before he’s ready, dunking him under the surface before pulling him back up.

“You will regret this,” Jeno splutters and Jaemin laughs when Jeno chases him into deeper waters. The air mattress is only hindering his escape and it takes no effort at all to reach Jaemin, to put his hands on his shoulders and topple him over, to dip his head under water and then let him go, laughing. 

They spend the rest of the first full day paddling around the lake on the mattress, shoulders touching, the sun beating down on them. Occasionally one of them will push the other off, starting a fight that usually ends with both of them almost drowning because of laughter.

It’s easy here. So easy. Rubbing sunscreen on each other’s backs, eating actual Italian pizza in a restaurant, sitting in front of their caravan in little camping chairs reading books and playing games until it’s time to sleep.

On the next day they catch a bus to Verona’s city centre. It’s hot but not unbearable, so it doesn’t bother them as much, especially not when it’s an excuse to get some excellent ice cream at a café. The short girl behind the counter doesn’t scoop it but uses an actual _spatula_ , completely overloading the cones.

“This is like an entire meal,” Jaemin says, contemplating his mountain of stracciatella ice cream. There are chunks of dark chocolate in there as big as Jeno’s thumb.

“It is,” Jeno agrees. “Can I try yours?”

They switch their ice creams. The chocolate takes a while to melt on Jeno’s tongue but the ice cream itself is still so much softer than any other ones he’s tried before.

“Out of all the places we’ve been to so far,” Jaemin starts, handing Jeno his ice cream back. Italy’s noon sun is sharp, painting the edges of his face white. “What was your favourite thing you’ve seen?”

 _You_ , Jeno thinks without hesitation. He doesn’t want to say it because it’s cheesy; he wants to say it because it’s the truth. Every day of the past weeks Jeno has been learning about the world but most of all he’s been learning about himself and he has Jaemin to thank for, who decided to wander into his life and take him on this journey.

Jaemin is a seeker without vision, who struts out into the unknown like he knows the way. He follows lights when he shouldn’t, speaks to strangers like they’ve been friends all along, took Jeno’s hand when they barely knew each other and asked him to come along.

The sights Jeno has seen and the experiences he’s made since then are incredible but in comparison to Jaemin himself they seem cheap. Nothing could be as vibrant, not even Dhaka’s chaotic markets, or Dubai’s breath-taking cityscapes. Not even the sun could ever outshine Jaemin’s nuclear smile.

Considering the way Jaemin’s looking at him now, Jeno finds nothing to regret. His heart feels light when Jaemin grins. Jaemin once told him he feels like he’s floating, like he doesn’t have the kind of roots that kept Jeno home for so long. He wonders if that’s it – being uprooted. Will he start floating, too?

“Are you going to give me an answer?” Jaemin asks, collecting a drop of cream that’s running down his cone. That’s what Italy has been so far: too much ice cream, dry hot days spent hanging around at the lake, and the scent of freshly pressed fruit.

This is what Italy with _Jaemin_ has been so far: eating puff pastries, buying each other braided wristbands, wiping chocolate from the corner of his mouth with burning cheeks. It’s trying to ignore the elephant in the room as long as they still can. It’s the _what if_ that presses harder against Jeno’s windpipe with every day that passes, every day that brings them closer to the destination.

A destination that differs for the both of them.

“It’s you,” Jeno says, not looking at Jaemin, and instead picks up the napkin on the table. “You’re my favourite thing about this journey.”

Jaemin doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tease him like he usually would, and when Jeno finally looks up he doesn’t smile.

“This is not the end, you know?” Jaemin tells him.

Jeno isn’t sure if he means the journey or this nameless thing between them but it doesn’t really make a difference. Every journey has an end. It’s just tragic that it’s going to be their end, too, when Jaemin goes where Jeno can’t follow, when Jeno goes back to a home that’s so far away from Jaemin’s.

“Don’t be sad,” Jaemin says quietly and takes Jeno’s hand. His fingers are sticky but his skin is warm. “We still have one more stop. It’s not the end.”

But they both know it is.

“Should we do the tourist stuff first and then get food somewhere?” Jaemin asks a little later. He looks like a proper foreigner in the pedestrian zone, with his camera slung around his neck, sunglasses, cap, Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops. The two days here have already tanned him and there’s a golden glow to his skin now, as if he was made to sit in the summer sun.

“Sounds good.”

They visit the arena, a Roman amphitheatre, and Jeno is moderately impressed. Jaemin makes him pose in front of it to take pictures for his mum, then Jeno insists he should do the same. Eventually another friendly tourist offers to take pictures of the both of them and for a moment Jeno feels shy, worried he’ll expose himself and his feelings to a stranger.

But Jaemin doesn’t have these worries, it seems. He wraps his arms around Jeno and pulls him close, cheeks squished against each other. It makes Jeno laugh and the friendly tourist takes one of his favourite pictures of this entire trip – both of them laughing, as close as they can be, looking like they belong together.

After that they continue to the _Casa de Giulietta_ , or Juliet’s House. They spend more time investigating the love letters people have stuck to the gritty wall of the tunnel that leads to the patio than looking at the sculpture of Juliet or her balcony. 

“Isn’t that kind of romantic?” Jaemin sighs dreamily, pointing at another yellowed piece of paper. The ink on it has been bleached by the sun and Jeno wonders how long it’s been here. “Writing letters and putting them up for a bunch of tourists to gape at. All in your lover’s name.” He smirks and turns to Jeno. “Should I leave one for you?”

Jeno almost chokes because that sounds a lot like a confession, a confession he doesn’t even need because he already knows. “Don’t be cheesy.”

Jaemin shrugs and drags Jeno over to where the crowd thickens a little. “It is said that if you touch Juliet’s right boob you’ll have a happy love life. Can’t hurt, can it?”

“This is the last time I’m travelling anywhere with you,” Jeno says sternly. “You keep making me do embarrassing things.”

Jaemin attaches himself to Jeno’s arm, pliable against his side like he’s part cat. “Don’t lie. You’d take me anywhere if you could.”

He would, no questions asked.

In the end they both touch the stature’s breast anyway, giggling and hitting each other like prepubescent teenagers.

Jeno figures he could use any luck he gets, seeing as he doesn’t even have three weeks left with Jaemin.

The days pass slowly, like a lucid summer dream. Every day Jeno wakes up already in love and every night he goes to sleep loving even more.

They play badminton. They sit outside reading comics or fall asleep while they’re sunbathing. Sometimes Jeno watches Jaemin play with the kids at the lake despite not speaking a word of Italian, other times Jaemin coaches him in swimming. Jaemin dives and brings pebbles to the surface like an otter and Jeno keeps every single one of them in a side pouch of his bag. They play card games and listen to the neighbours when they bring out a guitar, and sometimes, when it’s late and quiet enough, Jeno sings, just for Jaemin.

There’s supposed to be a thunderstorm today. Jeno doesn’t know what day it is exactly, has stopped counting them in futile hopes that it might stop time altogether. Of course it doesn’t but it helps calm his mind.

The air is humid and pressing. Time is slow the way it is when it’s too hot to move, a lazy trickle at best. The sun glares at the earth with extra anger, and with the afternoon the few white clouds on the cornflower blue sky puff up into huge inky mountains, heavy and threatening with un-spilled water. The air seems filled with static and anticipation, the tension almost tangible after a day of silent waiting.

Jaemin and he have already secured all their belongings that they usually keep outside, now either tied to something or brought into the caravan, and are waiting for the storm from under their little porch roof.

“It’s starting,” Jaemin says, right before Jeno sees the first few drops touch the dusty grounds of the camping site.

It doesn’t take long before it’s coming down hard, like an endless curtain of water falls down from the sky. The entire place seems to take a deep sigh, relieved from the sweltering summer heat for just a moment as the drops drum on the roofs of the caravans and collect in tiny streams. Jeno breathes in the earthy scent, together with that of wet concrete and leaves. It’s comforting to watch and listen to until the first bolt lightning whips across the sky, followed closely by cracking thunder.

“Hey. Come on, Jen,” Jaemin says suddenly and grabs Jeno by the wrist.

“What –”

But before Jeno can even protest Jaemin has dragged him out of the shelter and the rain has drenched him in seconds. It’s colder than he expected, making him gasp and glare at Jaemin when he feels it soak through his clothes, but Jaemin is grinning so widely it’s hard to be mad.

“Have you ever danced in the rain?” Jaemin asks and takes Jeno’s other hand, too. He has to shout a little over the noise.

Jeno shakes his head, blinking water out of his eyes. By now his shirt is stuck to him like a second skin and so is Jaemin’s, hinting at the outline of abs that Jeno already knows are there.

“You will now,” Jaemin tells him and grins.

They must look nuts to the other campers as they start spinning around each other, jumping up and down. The dust has turned into mud and it feels slippery under Jeno’s bare feet but he can’t stop laughing. He doesn’t remember having started but it doesn’t matter – he feels it everywhere, his entire body aching with happiness, all sparked by Jaemin and his spontaneous ideas. _Come with me, Jeno. Let’s watch the sunrise. Have you ever danced in the rain?_

He feels so weightless like this. Jaemin’s hand in his opens possibilities he never even dreamed of, gives him emotions he didn’t think he was capable of feeling. Jaemin makes him feel _alive_ – fiercely, boldly, unapologetically. Every breath is an adventure with him. Every smile is a memory that Jeno wants to cherish forever. He sees it all with striking clarity now – watching Jaemin dance around him in the pouring rain without ever letting go of Jeno’s hand.

Jeno loves him. He loves Jaemin with the strength of the sea, with the savageness of lightning, the warmth of a thousand suns. If Jaemin had asked him to follow him to the end of the world he would have said yes.

When they stop they’re both out of breath and the rain still shows no sign of letting up. They’re standing in the middle of the field, letting it soak their bones. Jaemin’s hair is plastered to his forehead in dark strings and over the thrumming of the torrent and that of Jeno’s heart it’s difficult to hear his voice. “Feels like life, doesn’t it?”

“Like life.” Jeno lets go of Jaemin’s hands and wraps his arms around his middle instead, pulling him flush against his chest. He doesn’t care if people stare at them or think they’re weird. He’s not scared anymore. Not with Jaemin pressing back against him, his chin on his shoulder, his laughter in his ears. His body is slippery and sticky at once, their wet shirts pressed against each other, but underneath the water Jaemin is warm, always so warm.

“Also feels like I’m drowning.” Jaemin snorts and pulls away. “Want to get back inside?”

“Yeah.”

So they go, laughing when they see how dirty their legs are, before Jaemin pulls their towels from the line under the roof. They dry each other’s hair sitting on the doorstep and then change into fresh clothes inside the caravan together, unabashed because nakedness is no longer daunting after all this time together.

Jaemin is standing in the kitchenette later that day, stirring a sauce while singing along to the Spotify playlist they’d made together before the flight from Dubai to Budapest. It’s still raining, the drops like a hundred fingertips drumming on the roof, but it’s a comforting, sheltering sound. Jaemin has to slouch a little because of the low ceiling and the small lamp above the stove isn’t illuminating his face properly but Jeno loves this image in front of him. Loves the simplicity of it. Jaemin in his usual Adidas track pants that ride low on his hips and a simple white shirt, oversized as anything he wears – just comfortable, not trying at all, and yet somehow devastatingly handsome.

Jeno’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, chopping spring onions on the wooden board that Jaemin handed to him a minute ago. Or he should be chopping them, anyway, because right now he’s just watching Jaemin and the way his knees give a little when he nods his head along to the song.

“Are you going to help at all?” Jaemin asks and lifts the lid off the pot to check the rice. “I’m almost done, you know.”

Jeno wonders how Jaemin would react if he said, ‘But I can’t stop looking at you,’ but between the two of them Jaemin remains the bold one, at least for now. So he tears his eyes away from Jaemin and starts cutting the onions, a fond smile on his face.

“You should be a chef,” Jeno says a little later, his mouth full of something he can only describe as amazingness. “Have your own restaurant and a horde of competent cooks to your beck and call. Imagine how much power you would have. People would travel all over the world just to get a _taste_ of this”

Jaemin is sitting cross-legged opposite of him, tipping over when he laughs too hard. “This is like, the simplest of dishes, Jen.”

“Oh my God, what else can you do? Please cook for me forever.”

“Damn, you weren’t lying when you said food is the way to your heart.”

“My heart?” Jeno grins. “It belongs to this rice. I don’t even know enough words to describe my feelings right now.”

Jaemin wheezes. “Jeno, stop –”

“I would marry the shit out of this rice. Look at this beauty. It smells so good but then you put it in your mouth and your senses _explode_ –”

“Please –”

Jeno bursts into laughter, too. This is what happiness tastes like – soy sauce egg fried rice, the butterflies in Jeno’s stomach every time Jaemin grins so wide he can see all of his teeth, his heart beating against the roof of his mouth.

This is what happiness _is_ : sitting in a tiny caravan with the boy he loves, laughing about the food he cooked, feeling the gravitational pull of the centre of his universe pulling him into Jaemin’s orbit. The moment is free of time and space and earthly bounds; nothing else exists when Jaemin reaches out and slides his hand onto Jeno’s nape, pulling him close until their foreheads rest against each other.

Jeno can see all of Jaemin’s beautiful long eyelashes like this, every single one a wish he’ll never voice.

Jeno knows what he’d wish for. He’s known it ever since Jaemin asked him for his name, since he took his hand for the very first time days after they met, since they sat outside at the fields and Jaemin said, _come with me, Jeno_.

_Please let me keep him._

It’s not a wish he’ll get to realise. Not one that will come true.

Jeno closes his eyes. Jaemin’s breath fans over his lips, softly, the prospect of a kiss that Jeno knows he won’t get. Something he doesn’t dare wish for.

“I’ll cook you anything you want if it makes you this happy,” Jaemin says quietly and Jeno opens his eyes again.

Jaemin is smiling a little, incisors slightly digging into his bottom lip, and pulls back. “But please help with the dishes.”

Jeno laughs. He doesn’t mind that he breaks the fragility of the moment and lets all his joy spill out instead, like a shaken soda fizzing over.

“I love seeing you like this,” Jaemin says and gets up.

Jeno follows him and wonders if Jaemin’s aware that he’s the only one who gets to make Jeno feel this way in the first place.

Just like that, two weeks pass and Jeno finds himself sitting in the sun on their last full day here. Tomorrow noon they’ll fly to their last mutual destination, spend one last week together, and then go home.

Home.

Jeno isn’t quite sure what that means anymore.

Jaemin is lying next to him, flat on his back, eyes closed. Jeno still isn’t sure how he can stand the sunlight like this; he prefers hanging out in the shadows where the air is at least breathable and it doesn’t feel like his skin is being burnt off of his bones.

But Jaemin loves the sun. It’s right for him to do so, Jeno thinks, given how bright he is.

Jeno places his hand on Jaemin’s bare chest, careful not to wake him, in the centre of it. His skin is hot from the sun and his body warmth, sticky from sunscreen, and smooth. Underneath the skin and muscle Jeno can feel his heart beating, right against the palm of his hand. He can see and feel the rise and fall of Jaemin’s ribcage with every breath.

Strange, so strange, the physical form that belongs to the refulgent soul that Jeno loves so deeply his bones ache with it.

Jeno lets himself look for a long moment, lets his hungry eyes roam over the sharpness of Jaemin’s collarbones and wonders what it would feel like to kiss along their lines. What it would be like to feel Jaemin’s rapid heartbeat against his tongue instead of his hand. Will he ever get to taste his skin? Will he ever be able to trip his fingers over his ribs like they’re the keys of a piano? _I want to write songs on your skin_ …

Too late Jeno realises that Jaemin woke up and is looking at him. He snatches his hand back, embarrassed despite Jaemin’s lack of reaction.

Jaemin’s eyelashes flutter when he glances down at Jeno’s hand. He reaches out and brings it back up, places it right under the ridge of his last rib where his lean stomach begins.

“I like it when you touch me,” he mumbles and he says it with such innocence that Jeno can’t do anything but leave his hand there, thumb trailing gentle circles on Jaemin’s warm skin, where he wishes he could put his mouth one day. “You do it all the time.”

“Huh? No, I don’t.”

Jaemin squints at him against the sunlight. “You don’t notice, do you?”

“Notice what?” Jeno asks.

Jaemin closes his eyes again and exhales, Jeno’s hand sinking with it. “It’s like you have to make sure I’m still there. Or still close to you. You always put your hand on my back when there’s a lot of people around. Or hold on to my sleeve. Anything.”

“Oh.” Honestly, Jeno wasn’t aware he was doing these things. He figured Jaemin was the touchy one with how he’s the one who always initiates hugs and innocent kisses.

“It’s cute,” Jaemin says. “Don’t stop doing it.”

So Jeno doesn’t.

They spend the early afternoon lazing around, pretending as if time doesn’t exist, before they eventually get ready for dinner.

“Let’s go out,” Jaemin had said. “Let’s go out and give this leg of the journey the toast it deserves.”

Jeno thinks the two of them deserve the toast. For not being stupid. For being so good at pretending this doesn’t feel like the end already.

Jaemin’s phone leads them to a small restaurant not too far away from their camp site, hidden in a niche between two houses. It’s cute, Jeno thinks, with the sand coloured bricks, dried vines curling around the stone walls of the patio that they’re sitting in. Jeno can hear insects buzzing around the old-fashioned lamps and the quiet chatter of people who enjoy a calm evening.

Jaemin is paging through the menu for the third time. It’s not especially complex but it has a decent selection, so Jeno isn’t sure why it’s taking so long.

“Are you looking for something?” Jeno asks.

Jaemin looks up like he’s been shaken out of his thoughts. “Hm? Yeah, I mean – shouldn’t we order some good wine or something? It’s our last evening here after all.”

Jeno raises his eyebrows. “You want to get us drunk?”

“Not drunk, just celebratory.” Jaemin scratches his chin. “On the other hand, I haven’t seen you properly shit-faced yet…”

“And you won’t. Not today, anyway. We might miss our flights.”

“So no wine.”

“You can order whatever you like.”

“It’s no fun getting drunk by myself.”

“Just one glass of wine then.”

Jaemin kicks his ankle against Jeno’s under the table. “You’re the more responsible half of me.”

What a nice thought, Jeno thinks. Maybe that’s why he stayed in his village all this time and Jaemin left home as soon as he could – now that they have each other, they balance each other out.

“Maybe,” Jeno says. “Or maybe I’m just more of a coward than you.”

Jaemin laughs, throaty and low. “We both know you’re not a coward, Lee Jeno. You just like to think things through before you do them.”

“Not always,” Jeno says, thinking about how he keeps saying yes to Jaemin without considering the consequences. How he said yes to this entire thing just because it was Jaemin who asked him.

He figures it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t regret anything.

Jaemin smiles at him. “Thank God for that.”

“I might actually miss the food here,” Jaemin says on the way back. They’re slow, as if that would stretch the minutes longer, and the night is clear around them. “Hey, do you wanna go look at the lake one more time?”

Jeno shrugs. He’s feeling – strange. Melancholy, maybe. There’s something heavy in the air around them and Jeno is scared of tomorrow and what will happen when they return to the buzzing, fast-paced life of a city where moments are such fleeting things.

The camping site is almost completely quiet when they cross it. There’s the occasional old couple sitting outside, the orange glow of a small caravan window, the sound of muffled laughter and conversation, but it’s mostly silent. When they arrive at the beach there is no one else there and Jaemin motions for them to sit down at the shore, close to each other. It takes a while for Jeno’s eyes to get used to the complete darkness but it’s more beautiful out here the longer he looks.

The lake is a flat mirror in front of them aside from the occasional ripple when the wind decides to run its fingers over the smooth surface. At times it looks like Jeno could step onto it and walk over to the opposite shore, it’s so still. The air is filled with the familiar hum of cicadas, the scent of cooling earth and water, his own quiet breathing.

Next to him, Jaemin feels warm. The steady pressure of his shoulder against Jeno, the familiar presence of the boy who’s shown Jeno the greatest miracle there is in the world –

Falling in love.

Their biggest secret, except it’s not really a secret anymore when Jeno hears and feels it in every simple touch and word.

When Jeno looks over, Jaemin’s face is serene, eyes fixed on the barely visible horizon. It’s not the clear straight line that it was in Dubai; it’s a dark smudge that melts into the black of the night. No limits. No boundaries. The earth is part of the sky after all.

Jaemin turns to look back at him. Nothing in his expression changes except his eyes – his kind, dark eyes that trace Jeno’s face like he’s caressing him with just his gaze. He leans in closer and Jeno is transfixed when he feels Jaemin’s hand come up to his jaw, so gentle, so quiet, like the softest breeze on water, unsettling the surface.

He closes his eyes and feels Jaemin’s breath on his skin, warm on his lips.

 _Don’t kiss me_ , he thinks and then, _please kiss me. Maybe if you kiss me I’ll never be able to leave. Put a spell on me that I can’t break_.

He’s never wanted anything so badly. Has never wanted anyone like this. But this is Jaemin and it makes sense that it’s him who Jeno wants because the first day they met something inside Jeno already knew him.

The tension is so thick Jeno is almost sure he could touch it if he lifted a hand now. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t move and neither does Jaemin, just breathing in each other’s space that seems so small and so insurmountable at once.

None of them closes the distance. It’s like they’re waiting for the other to do it but they both know better, know they shouldn’t be kissing each other anyway, not when they’re this close to the destination. Or maybe that’s why they should kiss in the first place. With Jaemin so close Jeno can’t think properly.

Jeno feels Jaemin’s thumb on his jaw, barely even a touch, and then the careful press of his mouth on his forehead. The smallest, most innocent of kisses, one of fondness and love and prudence. Jeno’s heart aches with it, straining against the roots that keep it where it is, beating and beating like Jaemin could hear its cries.

Jeno reaches up and takes Jaemin’s hand. Their fingers immediately link like a chain completing itself – that’s what it’s like, what it’s always been like, to be with him. Being completed, even though Jeno has never felt like there was a part of him missing.

But there will be soon.

Jaemin sighs and rests his forehead on Jeno’s shoulder, hiding his face. His breath is puffing against Jeno’s shirt and they sit like that for a long time, just holding each other because that’s all they allow themselves to do.

Eventually Jeno scratches gently at the spot between Jaemin’s shoulder blades and Jaemin slowly unwraps himself from him.

“Sleep?” Jeno asks.

Jaemin nods. They get up and walk back to their caravan, hand in hand, like that would ever be enough.

“One more stop,” Jaemin says that night, shoulders pressed together with how close they're lying. Jeno feels the back of his hand against Jaemin’s and thinks about threading their fingers together.

“About one more week together,” Jeno completes the thought.

“Will you miss me?”

 _Of course_ , Jeno doesn't say. _I’ll miss that smile that is more beautiful than the sunrise we watched back in Dubai. I'll miss your arms that held me after I got lost in Hong Kong. I'll miss you. Just you._

_I don’t remember who I was before I met you._

“I'll miss you, too,” Jaemin whispers and intertwines his fingers with Jeno’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do tell me what you thought of this <3   
> 
> 
> reminder that here's a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2GEgmh9kBamvijNwyKlamU)
> 
> talk to me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ki_jaemjen)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ki_jaemin)


	9. Berlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> VRN ✈ TXL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs:  
> hurt for me - syml  
> wake up - eden  
> all the same - nick wilson  
> leaving on a jetplane - john denver  
> let's hurt tonight - chase holfelder  
> the end of all things - panic! at the disco
> 
> enjoy~

_“Every moment was a precious thing, having in it the essence of finality.” – Daphne du Maurier_

Berlin is ugly and historic and dirty. Its walls are full of political street art, its back alleys smell like piss and things that died and there is the past everywhere. Jeno feels burdened with it, with the stories that took place here, the significance of them, even though it has nothing to do with him. It makes him quiet. It makes everyone quiet.

There are bright places, too, though. Jaemin, a city guide open on his phone, takes him to statues that represent solidarity. He takes him to bars full of light. To the Victory Column. To a Korean restaurant that makes Jeno miss home with a ferocity he hasn’t expected this late in the game.

Just a few days now. Jeno eats his grilled meat slowly.

Jeno feels like the harder he tries to ignore time, the faster it flies by. He keeps himself busy, tries not to think, but then, in what seems to be the blink of an eye, he finds himself waking up on their second to last full day like he’s been rattled out of a dream.

They’ve been making the most of it. Jaemin shows him lots of different places, all of them vibrant and bright and beautiful, parks and museums, breweries and bakeries.

After a warm day full of adventures, they eventually return to their hostel, one that was once a prison for women. It shows, Jeno thinks, in the thick brick walls and small windows. It shows in the bunk beds and the minimalistic washrooms. There’s a stench of desperation in those walls that more time will have to wash out. Maybe this whole city smells like that.

Maybe it’s the weight of Jeno’s heart that makes him so sensitive to it.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Jaemin asks. They rented a double room, just for themselves to spend the last few days together, but they still ended up with a bunk bed. The top has been unused for the past few days; the bottom is barely wide enough for one person but Jeno would rather sleep pressed against Jaemin’s chest than alone. They’re going to have enough space between them come Saturday.

Five thousand miles of space.

“Don’t care,” Jeno says and runs a towel over his wet hair. “I just want to be with you.”

Jaemin props himself up on the bed, mattress squeaking under his weight. “Well, isn’t that a shame. I was actually looking forward to exploring this city by myself tomorrow. I’ve really gotten sick of your face, you know –”

“Shut up.” Jeno throws his towel at him and allows himself to laugh along with Jaemin. It’s hard. It’s hard. Knowing that he’ll have to leave this laugh behind, too.

“Come over here,” Jaemin says and scoots back. Jeno obeys and they struggle a little until both of them are comfortable, Jeno’s cheek squished against Jaemin’s warm chest. “We can just… have dates all day tomorrow.”

“Dates?”

“I’ll take you out for breakfast. You’ll take me out for brunch. My turn for lunch, yours for cake and coffee, mine for dinner, yours for… a late night snack.”

“So what you’re saying is you want to eat all day.”

Jaemin snickers. “I’m saying I want to romance you. In all the ways that you want, as often as I can while there’s time. And also…” He hesitates. “Kisses are allowed after three dates, right?”

It’s the first time that they talk about what happened – _almost_ happened – in Italy. “Aren’t we way past three dates already?”

“What am I waiting for then?” Jaemin’s tone is teasing but none of them moves. Maybe Jaemin is thinking about it too. About whether he wants this memory or if it would be easier to live without having it. Easier to leave. Will it turn into a regret? Will it be a regret if they don’t kiss?

“I don’t know if I can live without having kissed you just once,” Jaemin whispers. “But I also don’t know if I can ever leave after I kiss you.”

“Then don’t leave,” Jeno says softly, his heart pulsing in his throat, heavy with want. It’s for nothing. They’re both leaving each other. Taking planes in opposite directions. Stepping off on different continents with a time difference of eight hours.

Jaemin sighs. Jeno can feel his breath on the top of his head. “I wish I could kiss you without these thoughts.”

It’s almost unbearable now. Lying here with his stomach pressed against Jaemin’s hip, one of Jaemin’s legs slotted between Jeno’s knees, his arm around his waist. Every piece of Jeno wants to look up and press his mouth to Jaemin’s, just once.

Just once.

Jeno pushes at Jaemin’s embrace and leans up, careful to not fall out of the bed, until he’s face to face with Jaemin. “Do you regret asking me to come with you?”

Jaemin furrows his eyebrows and brushes Jeno’s bangs out of his eyes. “You’ve been the best part of this entire journey, Jeno.”

“Then – then, do you think you’d regret kissing me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

Jeno’s voice drops to just a breath. “Okay, kiss me if you want.”

“Do – do _you_ want to?”

“ _Please_ kiss me.”

Jaemin’s eyes are the ocean. Dark and deep and full of secrets, and Jeno has hopelessly fallen in love with him. He’s beyond saving. Has listened to Jaemin’s siren song for too long, has dived too far down to even want to come up for air, surrendering to fate.

That’s a little what kissing Jaemin feels like: drowning. Like the heavy body of the water is pressing him down, suffocating him, but the siren song in his ears mutes the panic. He’s okay, here. It’s his end and a part of it is painful, but it’s okay.

With his closed eyes Jeno thinks he can see the red string of fate, curling and unfurling around the golden light that is Na Jaemin.

They pull away, breathing hard, forehead to forehead. Moisture clings to their eyelashes. Not quite tears, not quite nothing. Salt water.

“I should’ve done this sooner. I’m sorry, Jeno. I’m sorry it has to be like this, I’m sorry –”

Jeno slides his fingers into Jaemin’s hair and kisses him again. No sorrys until Saturday. No regrets until the plane takes off. He wants to stay adrift a little while longer.

It remains those few slow yet desperate kisses, stolen away in the hostel room after the sunset. Jaemin pecks Jeno on the cheek in the morning and for a moment it looks like he’s about to lean in again, but he doesn’t.

Jeno understands. They have that memory now. Every added one would just make it harder, no matter how much he wants it.

And he _wants_. Honestly he’s not sure how either of them has the self-control.

But there are places to be and things to do, at least that’s what Jeno tells himself. He’ll probably never come to Berlin again.

They do end up doing the date thing, though they eat less and talk more. It’s like they are trying too hard to ignore the hourglass that seems to follow them around, and Jeno feels the urgency in all his questions and answers, like he can’t get them out fast enough. He’s not _done_ yet. He needs more time with Jaemin, there’s so much he doesn’t know – what food was he obsessed with growing up? Has he ever broken a bone? Does he believe in aliens?

But in the end, the pull of Jaemin’s gravity is stronger than the toothed wheels of time gripping into each other. Jeno is helplessly dragged into his orbit, forgets they’re running out of hours, and gets lost in the sound of Jaemin’s voice when he tells Jeno another story about Mark, his Canadian travel companion before he left the US. Jeno laughs so hard at his impersonation that he accidentally snorts lemonade up his nose and Jaemin has to slap his back for a minute before he can breathe properly again.

And they still have tomorrow, right? At least for a few hours.

For the past weeks that has always been Jeno’s lifeline. _There’s always tomorrow_. Always just one more day, one more stop, one more night in a shared bed.

Jeno can’t imagine what it will be like to wake up in a room that doesn’t have Jaemin in it.

They end up in a pedestrian zone, sharing a portion of Currywurst as a last snack before heading back to the hostel. The day was nice and Jeno’s stomach still aches from laughing so much but the mood is solemn now, knowing that in twenty-four hours they’ll both be on different planes.

They have to talk about it, Jeno thinks. About what will happen to them once they live in two different time zones again. Five thousand miles apart.

Jeno wishes he was a dreamer. He wishes he was a believer, so he too could pretend they can make it work.

But Jeno isn’t, he’s a realist, and the chances are slim for them. So very slim. A face on a screen and a voice through a speaker will never be enough, not for either of them. Jaemin is no stranger to letting people go and Jeno has no experience in anything. They’re bound to fail.

Some things aren’t meant to last forever, everybody knows that. You cannot keep everything; sometimes you have to let go and appreciate that you got to have it at all, if just for a while.

“What’s going to happen to us?” Jeno asks finally. They’ve avoided talking about it for so long it’s almost too late, but it’s not like they don’t already know. “When this is over?”

“We could try,” Jaemin says anyway, more like a wish than a serious suggestion. “I mean, there’s the internet. There’s letters. The world isn’t all that big anymore in this day and age.”

But it is, Jeno doesn’t say. It _is_ big – he’s seen with his own two eyes just _how_ big – and it’s too big when Jaemin’s living on the other side of it, light years away from him.

“We could,” Jeno replies. A wish. A dream. A futile prayer.

Distance doesn’t work.

For other people it might. For rich people. People who aren’t like them. Jeno doesn’t think they could do it; the red string of fate only stretches so far. Jaemin needs presence, needs affection, needs someone who’ll let him touch them at all times. And Jeno… Jeno needs… he doesn’t know. Needs someone who takes him by the hand and frees him from himself, he supposes.

But what is better, he asks himself, what is better: trying as hard as you can while knowing you’re going to fail, or not trying at all?

Perhaps the question is not what is better but what is easier.

They both know the answer. They might save each other a lot of pain by breaking it off straight away. They might be missing a chance to know each other for a little while longer, but it’s the right thing to do – giving up.

A clean cut heals easier than a torn, festering wound. It’s easier to go home and live his life the way it was before, like this journey was just that – a journey. A collection of memories and pictures to keep in a box, to flick through in quiet moments when Jeno finds it dusted under his bed, or on the shelf, in the nooks and corners of his heart where he’ll carry Jaemin with him.

The travelling comes to an end. Jeno can see the shore, even though the ocean is still calling his name.

It’s time to go home.

Jaemin folds the cardboard plate to throw it away and looks at Jeno, really looks at him the way only Jaemin does. Jaemin _sees_ him. For who he is. For all the things he has yet to be. “I’m going to miss you for the rest of my life, Jeno.”

Jaemin knows it, too: that this was a wish come true, a once in a life time kind of adventure, an experience that has shaped the both of them.

“Me, too,” Jeno says and he’s choking up now. _I had the time of my life with you_. He didn’t mean to cry until after they part ways but it’s so terribly difficult now, when Jaemin’s own eyes are too shiny and his breath is catching and looking away is so fucking hard.

Jaemin reaches for Jeno’s hand and links their fingers together. Jeno feels better instantly, blinking up at the dark sky until his vision clears. Not yet, not yet. No goodbyes until tomorrow.

“This really was a dream of a summer,” Jaemin says quietly, smiling a little. “I hope it taught you some useful things.”

 _It taught me love in its purest form_ , Jeno thinks. _And right now, in this moment, it is teaching me heartbreak_.

“I learnt that sometimes you find the things you need when you weren’t even looking for them,” Jeno says.

Jaemin smiles wider, for real this time, though his eyes are still sad. “I think we both learnt that.”

“But weren’t you looking? You said you were a seeker.”

“I was looking for myself,” Jaemin says. “But I found you instead.”

Jeno doesn’t reply to that, just spreads his arms out and Jaemin steps into the embrace willingly, crushing Jeno to his chest. Jeno doesn’t mind; it’s meant to hurt. Holding Jaemin so close but never close enough, maybe never close again come tomorrow.

It’s hard to grasp: the concept of forever. The human mind wasn’t made to understand it, can’t comprehend it.

Jeno’s mind refuses to understand that he might never see Jaemin again.

He breathes him in as deeply as he can, the scent of the complementary hotel shower gel that Jaemin had brought along from Dubai, orange blossoms, the hint of sweat and exhaust fumes from running around the city all day, and then warmth. Just warmth and musk, just Jaemin.

“Maybe every once in a while we can send each other a letter,” Jaemin mutters against Jeno’s neck, his breath hot on his skin. “Maybe one day, when things are easier, we can meet again.”

Another wish, Jeno thinks. He knows they won’t. He won’t. It will hurt too much; it will make letting go impossible.

So he stays quiet again, closes his eyes and buries his face in the junction of Jaemin’s shoulder and neck. He thinks he can feel it, the thread that binds them, the string that ties him so deeply to Jaemin, that first tugged him towards a stranger on a quiet afternoon when they didn’t know each other and yet somehow _did_.

He doesn’t know how long they stand there like this, but at some point they untangle from each other and Jaemin slips his fingers between Jeno’s.

“Let’s go back,” he says, so they do, slowly, looking at the dark alleys like they’re fascinating, looking at each other like they’ll never have another chance again.

Their last night is almost a mirror image of the previous one. Full of fear and regrets and sadness. Jeno feels so heavy he thinks it’s a miracle he doesn’t just sink through the mattress down to the ground. Maybe he would if Jaemin wasn’t holding on to him.

“What am I going to do without you?” Jaemin asks quietly.

“Float into the next chapter of your life.”

“But I’ve just – I just _arrived_.”

“Nana.”

“What are you going to do without me?”

 _Feel lost_ , Jeno thinks.

“Live a boring life. Miss you terribly.”

Silence. Jeno counts seven of Jaemin’s heartbeats.

“Jeno, I need you to know this.”

Jeno knows what he’s going to say. He feels it in the press of Jaemin’s fingertips on his wrist. In the way his heartbeat speeds up under Jeno’s ear.

“I –”

“Don’t say it,” Jeno whispers and closes his eyes so the tears won’t escape. “Please don’t.”

Jaemin doesn’t reply but he holds Jeno closer to his chest, his nose buried in Jeno’s hair. They are both trying so hard to keep it together but it’s in vain when they both know exactly what Jaemin was about to say.

_I love you I love you please don’t go._

Getting up the next day is a fight. Jeno only really does because they have to check out by ten, packs his bag carefully, finds a key ring Jaemin bought him in Budapest and puts it on the zipper.

Jaemin checks the room again when they’re ready to leave, Jeno makes sure they have all their belongings, then they meet at the door.

Jaemin has his hand on the handle but doesn’t open. Instead he looks at Jeno, something careful in his eyes. “Can we pretend it’s three am?”

Jeno frowns. “Huh?”

“Can we pretend – that it’s three am and that the world doesn’t exist?”

 _Oh_. A flashback to home. Right before this crazy incredible adventure started. Or maybe – maybe it all started when a stranger came walking up the street. “Only we do?”

“Us and our secrets.”

“Are the stars asking for them again?”

Jaemin is still looking at him. “No. Just me.”

Jeno puts down his bag again. He’s honestly glad for this extra minute in a closed room, right before the world catches up with them again, with all its colour and noise and reality. “A real secret this time?”

“I don’t want you to tell me one,” Jaemin says. “But, maybe if – if we pretend that it’s three am and that the stars will bless us despite everything, maybe then… then kissing you won’t be wrong and – can be our secret.”

A part of Jeno wants to tease Jaemin for not just asking him straight out. The other part, though, is too occupied with thinking about kissing him again. Of diving beneath the waves just one more time, while he still can.

“Maybe the stars don’t care about whether it’s right or wrong,” Jeno replies quietly, his heart beating heavily against his ribs. “Maybe I don’t care, either.”

Jaemin smiles a little and in the next moment Jeno finds himself pressed against the door, Jaemin’s chest flush to his own like they’re trying to breathe with the same pair of lungs. Jeno can feel his body heat seep through the fabric of his thin shirt. When he keeps still there’s a heartbeat, too, but it might be his own.

“Every day I thank the stars that they’ve led me to you,” Jaemin whispers and carefully presses his lips to Jeno’s cheek. “And every night I curse them for taking you away from me again.”

It’s like he’s already saying goodbye.

Jeno refuses to. They have a few more hours left and until then Jeno will pretend this isn’t the end, isn’t the end of the most beautiful adventure he’s ever had the luck to experience. The end of something that has undeniably altered him.

So Jeno doesn’t say anything. He buries his fingers in Jaemin’s hair and tugs him closer, slotting their mouths together the way he’s wanted to since they stood on a roof top in the middle of Hong Kong when everything was dipped in gold.

Jeno can feel the desperation rising in both of them. Feels it in the press of Jaemin’s fingertips on his waist, in the way he pushes impossibly closer. Feels it in the urgency of his own kisses, like he’s still trying to make up for lost time, or just trying to live every single second they have left without any regrets. This kiss is all of the want Jeno has harboured in the past four months. It’s all of the blood that rushed through Jeno every time Jaemin touched him. It’s every single sunrise he’s watched with Jaemin, every single sunset, every night sky, every moon, every flown mile.

It wasn’t enough. It’s never going to be enough.

When he pulls back there’s a single tear clinging to Jaemin’s eyelashes. Jeno lifts a careful finger to brush it away and Jaemin presses his lips together in a thin straight line.

Jeno wants to tell him not to cry. He wants to say, _it’s okay_. He wants to say, _it’s just me, you don’t have to hurt_.

But he doesn’t want to lie to Jaemin. He feels like he’s going to break apart, like a stray meteoroid that’s hurtling toward its end and about to burn up in the earth’s stratosphere. It’s not okay. It’s painful.

Jaemin swallows and Jeno watches his throat work around the threat of tears. He kisses Jeno again, briefly, like it’s a goodnight kiss, not a goodbye kiss. “We should head to check-out.”

“We should.”

So they do, bags full of memories pressing down their shoulders, but still not as heavy as their hearts.

They have a simple breakfast in a small café near the train station. Jeno’s flight is in four hours, Jaemin’s in six and a half.

It doesn’t feel real. All Jeno ever wants to do is sit opposite of Jaemin in the morning while he’s drinking coffee and Jeno’s drinking milk, a familiar picture after weeks of routine. Jeno has snapshots of the same image in different countries: Jaemin sitting in front of a caravan in the soft morning glow in Verona. Jaemin in a restaurant full of paper lanterns in Dhaka. Jaemin cross-legged on the floor of their tiny room, stirring instant coffee in Hong Kong.

Right now, with the dismal Berlin city light filtering through the dirty window, Jaemin looks de-colourised. Everything here does, the yellow plastic flowers on the table, the blue counter, the red aprons of the waitress – nothing is vibrant.

Jaemin digs a pen out of his bag and starts to scribble on the napkin. Jeno watches him, how he tips his head to the side, bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration. He watches him fold the napkin and then slide it over to Jeno, who carefully picks it up.

“Read it on the plane,” Jaemin says. “And then wipe your tears with it.”

“How do you know if I’m going to cry?” Jeno asks.

Jaemin gives him a lopsided grin. “I’m your soulmate. I just know.”

His soulmate.

But soulmates don’t have to leave each other, do they? Soulmates find each other and the picture completes itself. In books and movies everything falls into place like there was always a space left empty in your life for this other person to fill out.

But real life isn’t like that, Jeno realises. Real life doesn’t have empty spaces and it’s messy and it’s not a fairy tale. It’s not a song about gold dust and sunrises. It’s a sheet of facts that tell you all the reasons why the only empty space your soulmate fits into is the cavity of your heart.

“Don’t you want to see my face when I read this?” Jeno asks, fidgeting with the folded corner of the napkin. It’s cheap paper with the layers coming loose already, fraying under his fingers. The ink has bled into the material.

“It’s not much,” Jaemin tells him. “But it would be easier for you, I think, if you read it on the plane.”

“Is it a secret?”

“Yes.” Jaemin reaches across the table, pressing one of his warm palms against Jeno’s cheek. “I think you already know it. But it’s better to read it when I can’t run after you anymore.”

“But I want you to run after me.”

Jaemin smiles and drops his hand. “I can’t stop you, can I?”

“No.”

Jeno knows Jaemin is watching closely as he unfolds the napkin, discovering only one black line in Jaemin’s small chicken scratch.

_You’re the closest to home I’ve ever had._

Jeno closes his eyes and presses the napkin to his face.

 _You’re the closest to home I’ve ever had._ It’s such a simple line but, coming from Jaemin, it means so much.

Jaemin doesn’t know what home _means_. Has repeatedly told Jeno he doesn’t know what that feels like – being at home. Belonging somewhere. He’s a perpetual wanderer, a seeker who doesn’t know what to look for, someone who’s always homesick for a place he hasn’t yet seen.

When Jeno looks up Jaemin’s staring at his hands and worrying at his bottom lip, his shoulders pulled up. “Jaeminie.”

He gets up and takes the seat next to him, winding an arm around his shoulders. Jaemin doesn’t look up but leans into Jeno.

“You’ll find a home in a place someday,” Jeno whispers against his hair. “I promise.”

Jaemin lifts his gaze. “No. I think it’s just you.”

And then he kisses Jeno. On this monochrome last morning, with no more tomorrows, in this rundown central Berlin café. Jeno almost wants to remind him of the people but this isn’t Korea, and even if it was Jeno doubts he’d have the strength to pull away.

“Please,” Jaemin breathes against Jeno’s mouth. “Please can we go somewhere where people won’t see us?”

That’s how they spend their last hour: in the back alley behind the café, pressed against each other, kissing like they’re making up for lost time. And they are. Jeno’s kissing Jaemin with all the built-up desperation that has collected like raindrops since he first let himself think about it, and it’s turning into a storm now.

Jeno feels for the first time that hunger has teeth. He doesn’t care about how messy it is, the way Jaemin licks into his mouth, urgent and wet. His lips taste like coffee and something sweet that reminds Jeno of Verona and Jaemin swallows the soft noise Jeno makes when he pushes him up against the grey wall.

He can’t get close enough to Jaemin, who has one hand in his hair and the other under his shirt, tracing fire onto his sides. It’s never enough – time, space, feeling. Jeno’s skin prickles with impatience and static, the building tension that Jeno knows he won’t get to release because time is running through his fingers like the soft beige desert sand in Dubai.

Jaemin’s breath is frantic when he pulls away and Jeno can barely stand the tenderness in his eyes. Jaemin lifts his hand to push Jeno’s hair back, traces his swollen bottom lip with his thumb.

“The train…” he pants. There’s a blush high on his cheeks and his lips are red and all Jeno wants to do is pull him back against him until they’re inseparable, but he doesn’t. He fixes Jaemin’s collar with still trembling fingers while Jaemin fixes his hair for him and then shoulders his backpack.

By the time they leave the alley behind Jeno still feels hot all over, the memory of Jaemin’s mouth on his too fresh to ignore, but they keep going. 

The train ride to the airport is silent. Jaemin lets Jeno rest his head in the crook of his neck, one hand sitting on his thigh as if to say, _I’m still here_.

They arrive and with the bustling airport air come a hundred unwanted memories. Jeno has never flown without Jaemin. Has never gone anywhere without Jaemin. Airports are nowhere-places; they’re stopovers, links between countries, between home and people and the rest of the world. They all feel the same somehow.

They check in one by one, drop off some of their luggage, all at a snail’s pace as if that would stop time.

It doesn’t. It doesn’t. The hourglass is running dry.

They find themselves in front of the entrance to Jeno’s gate. Behind the automatic boarding pass scanners the security belts are turning, people are taking their shoes off awkwardly, airport staff is directing impatient travellers into the correct queues.

Jeno’s grandmother used to tell him this: “Happiness gives life its colours but it’s the pain that will give you the contrast to see them.”

Jeno wonders if this is the pain she meant. Wonders how on earth having his happiness taken away would ever make him see anything beautiful at all. How losing the one thing that ever felt right would teach him anything but how cruel the stars are.

Jaemin sighs heavily. He looks so tired, worn down, like saying goodbye is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. If he feels anything like Jeno, it might be. “Text me when you get home, yeah? Then you can forget me.”

“I’m not going to forget you,” Jeno replies. That’s easier to say out loud than _your name was etched into my bones when I was made_.

Then they just stand there, probably looking like strangers with that insurmountable space between them.

“I had so many things to tell you,” Jaemin says. “But now that we’re here I don’t know what to say. But um. Thank you, Jeno. For joining me on this path. I feel honoured. I'll always take a piece of you with me wherever life will take me."

Suddenly Jeno feels like he's going to cry. He hasn't realised that while leaving his home behind he's built another, within this boy who took him by the hand on a spring day.

“Thank you so much, Nana.” _For showing me the world. For teaching me that home can be anywhere as long as I’m with the right person._

Jaemin gives him a watery smile. “I will send you postcards from everywhere.”

“I’m not very good at saying important things,” Jeno says. “But just – I don’t have enough words to tell you how grateful I am to have met you.”

Jaemin digs his fingers into his sleeve. “I – thank you, Jeno.”

He steps forward, frames Jeno’s face with his hands. “I’m sorry I can’t hug you but if I do I’ll never let go. So.” He stands up on his toes and presses a soft kiss to Jeno’s forehead, just barely, then lets him go. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Was I ever?” Jeno replies and then he steps back. If he doesn’t do it now he’ll never leave.

He watches how Jaemin’s shoulders sink when he breathes out. How everything sinks. Jaemin looks like an old soul between the blur of other travellers, people who are going on vacation and business trips, people who haven’t seen the entire world just to find their home in a person instead.

It’s hard to look away but Jeno has to. He drags his feet to the gate entrance, holds his boarding pass over the scanner with shaking hands. The light blinks green, the gate slides open, waits for him to pass. Then he’s being swept away by a staff member who’s telling him to get in line.

By the time he’s through security, patted down and scanned, he’s still thinking about what Jaemin looked like on the other side of this gate: a firefly trapped in a glass jar, all the light gone out.

**  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls look at [these](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EFAoAFhUUAAZ2td?format=jpg&name=small) [pics](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EFAoAGDVUAEPbui?format=jpg&name=small) of jeno at the airport and think of this chapter :)) 
> 
> talk to me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ki_jaemjen)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ki_jaemin)


	10. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TXL ✈ INC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter!! 
> 
> Songs:  
> what’s good – fenne lily  
> some kind of lonely - harbor & home  
> the village – wrabel  
> stars - feyde

_“Have you ever loved a thing that you know will go away? – Not on purpose.” – 8bit-fiction_

Jeno doesn’t quite remember how but he does end up on the plane. He has a window seat, next to a woman who’s currently reading the safety instructions like they’re the most thrilling thing ever, and a middle-aged man who looks half asleep.

Flying alone is different. Flying for fourteen hours is different. The plane picks up and Jeno feels so _heavy_ , like the weight of his heart might keep them on the ground, but it’s unrelenting, lifting off the tarmac and rising fast. Berlin shrinks, an airport made of toy buildings full of puppets, cars and machines tiny little beetles, until they all disappear behind a veil of misty clouds.

Gone. Jaemin, alone, sitting at his own gate, left behind.

Jeno is trying his best to keep it together, at least for now. He doesn’t know how much longer he can; the breaking point has been pressing against his ribs for days, ready to crack through his chest.

 _Don’t be a stranger_ , Jaemin had said. Don’t be a stranger, like they’ll see each other again. But maybe that’s not how things work. Maybe everything is backwards: it’s not strangers to lovers – it’s lovers to strangers.

Jeno always felt like he’d already known Jaemin after all.

“Are you alright?” the lady next to him asks.

When he turns to look at her everything is blurry and he realises he’s already crying. Of course he is. The tears are fat and hot on his cheeks, burning silvery tracks into his skin, and they won’t stop. They’re everywhere. His chest is filling with ocean and it spills over, the waves crushing his ribcage, salt in the wound.

He shakes his head. The lady hands him a tissue and he buries his entire face in it, as if he could vanish, as if this square piece of paper could soak up the sorrow, too.

“It’s going to be alright,” the woman says warmly.

Of course she would say that, Jeno thinks, letting the pain seep into every bone. She’s probably never had to leave her soulmate behind.

Jeno wakes up when the stewardesses are handing out food. His face feels swollen, the sensitive skin of his eyelids crusty with dried tears. He doesn’t feel hungry but he knows he should eat, picks at the noodles and the chicken and the peas.

Just over six hours have passed. By now Jaemin is on the way back to his parents, too, his entire flight already over.

It’s then that Jeno remembers the letter.

He’d started writing it in Budapest, in the breaks where Jaemin had been showering or wandering off or had been sleeping when Jeno hadn’t. Stolen a few words and sentences here and there on public transportation, had scribbled chunks of it in the caravan while Jaemin had taken naps in the sun. He’d finished it two days ago, on the bed in the women’s prison hostel, when Jaemin had been in the bathroom.

It’s full of all the secrets Jeno hadn’t been brave enough to say and he never gave it to Jaemin.

The thought alone is almost enough make him cry again and he digs it out of his hand luggage, crumbled and creased, written with five different pens. Maybe it’s a good thing he forgot; it’s probably too cringy, too honest, too _romantic_.

Then again, Jaemin would have deserved to know.

_To Na Jaemin, the brightest boy I know,_ Jeno reads.

_I’m not very good with words, as you know, but I have things that I need to tell you. I’m sorry I couldn’t say them to you._

_I think I’ve always known you, or a piece of me has. Maybe I knew you in another life. Maybe in the next universe we’ll find each other sooner or we’ll find each other in a time line where our paths merge instead of intersect._

_For now, I’ll miss you like the piece of me has missed you all along, with all of my heart. I’m so grateful that you took me on this adventure and taught me so many things when you didn’t have to._

_You’ve gifted me so many secrets. I don’t know what I did to deserve your trust but I think it’s only fair that you get to hear mine as well._

_For each stop there’s something I wasn’t brave enough to say out loud. I’m telling you now._

_Back home_

_When you walked up the street, it felt like you were the rising moon and I was the tide, seeing you for the first time._

_Seoul_

_I was so lost in all that noise and so overwhelmed, but you were there. When we stood in the bathroom and you asked me what I liked about Seoul, I couldn’t tell you that it was you. I couldn’t tell you that you were like a lighthouse guiding me, or an anchor grounding me._

_Hong Kong_

_Remember when we went up to the rooftop of the BnB for the first time? When we watched the sun frame the skyscrapers with golden threads and you said you felt like the richest man in the world? I wanted to kiss you then. I didn’t know why, I didn’t really know you then, but I wanted to._

_Dhaka_

_None of the colours here were as vibrant as you._

_Dubai_

_I fell in love – really fell in love with you here. It wasn’t so much falling as it was a light flickering on. Like I could finally see. You and the ocean and the endless desert – I’ll never forget._

_Budapest_

_I was scared to come to Europe because that meant being so close to the end._

_Verona_

_Once, when you went out to buy breakfast I slipped into one of your shirts. It was the grey one you slept in before it got too warm for clothes at night, and it smelled like you. Is that creepy? I’m sorry if you think it is. I liked it._

_Berlin_

_No matter how far away we are from each other, you will always have a home in me and I will always have a home in you._

_I’m sorry it had to end but that’s better than not having had this at all, right? My grandma would probably have something wise to say about letting go and stuff. I can’t really come up with anything right now to justify what it feels like to leave you but I’ll always hold on to what we had._

_I can’t and won’t regret a single moment I had with you. It was_ you _._

_You are the sunrise._

_I hope you never forget that there is someone out there who starts every day with the thought of you._

_Nana. I hope you find everything you’re looking for in the life that you choose. Every once in a while, go outside and look at the moon. It comforts me to know that at least we’re living under the same sky, looking at the same thing. That has to be enough, right?_

_I will never be able to thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me and with me but please know that I love you._

_I love you. You and your brain and your kind, kind heart. May the universe always be good to you._

_Yours always,_

_Jeno_

_PS. I’m sorry this is so cheesy, feel free to laugh at me all you want. I read a lot of poetry growing up, okay?_

_PPS. If you ever return to Italy you may pin this on Juliet’s wall, for all the tourists to gawk at. If they knew how I love you they’d write sonnets in our name._

Jeno smiles at the letter before his vision blurs again. He holds the tears back this time – it will hurt enough, the next few days, possibly weeks, maybe forever. It will hurt enough.

So he tugs the letter back into his backpack and leans his head against the airplane wall, closing his eyes.

It’s a little unreal landing in Incheon. The last time he was here he had no clue about travelling, just followed Jaemin through the motions like a doe-eyed child, didn’t know anything about where this journey would lead him.

There’s a message in his inbox when he takes his phone out, one that startles his heart into his throat. It’s Jaemin, telling him he arrived safely at home hours ago. Jeno forces himself not to answer. Not yet.

It takes him a while before he finds the right train, and then later the right busses but then he recognises the landscape, the countryside of his province. The summer has made life slow here and Jeno already knows it will be hard to acclimatise.

And then he’s there. He sees them waiting at the bus stop – his mother, father and sister, all chatting animatedly. His mum is already clutching a tissue in her small hand.

He steps off the bus as if in trance. God, he’s so tired and yet so anxious and then the bus driver hands him his luggage and it’s over.

It’s over.

It’s over, it’s done, and his mum his hurtling towards him to tackle him into a hug and his sister is laughing and crying at once and his dad is there, patting his shoulder from somewhere, and Jeno can’t feel a single thing.

Jeno cries again. Cries like a baby into his mother's shoulder, right there at the bus stop. He cries because he's missed her, has missed the village and its simple life and it feels like he’s been away for years, because he’s so _tired_ and time doesn’t make sense, but he cries, too, because it feels like he’s left something important behind, something he’ll never get back.

He wonders if Jaemin felt like this, too. What it was like for him to see his parents again, after an entire year and not just a few months. On the street leading up to the village, Jeno takes his phone out and shoots Jaemin a message back, most likely the last message, just like they’d promised each other.

_Arrived home safely too._

Jeno wills himself not to say anything else, and then he’s there.

He’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so as i was editing this, i was like hm i wonder if this is letter thing too cheesy. but you know what? i like cheesy letters
> 
> talk to me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ki_jaemjen)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ki_jaemin)


	11. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeno is back where he started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs:
> 
> paralysed – nf  
> heal – tom odell  
> miles apart – nick wilson  
> sense of home – harrison storm  
> if I had an airplane – saywecanfly
> 
> enjoy!

_“Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.” – Terry Prachett_

No one tells you that sometimes you come back to be a stranger in your own house.

Everything is the same: the futon on the wooden floor of Jeno’s room, the scent of his mother’s laundry detergent when she dries clothes outside on the washing line, the creak of the front door where sun and water have worn it down over the years. But everything is different: his place at the table has been replaced by bags and miscellaneous stuff that had no other spot, his sister is talking about a ‘last month’ and ‘remember Mrs Kim’s birthday’ that Jeno hasn’t been there for. Things are different: the light in the house feels foreign, the air strange and unbreathable, and the food tastes like childhood but he’s grown out of it.

Everything feels familiar, it’s all the same, except Jeno because Jeno has changed.

No one tells you that you become a stranger to yourself, sometimes. Maybe he’s lost too much of himself to Jaemin.

It’s not like it isn’t nice to be back. The familiar shapes of the village, the noise of Jeno’s family, his neighbours greeting him enthusiastically – it all feels like a warm, welcoming hug. He’ll get used to it again, once he’s gotten over the time difference and the feelings.

He’ll get used to it.

Jeno can’t sleep.

It must be the jetlag, he thinks, given that it’s late afternoon now in Berlin. He’s dead tired, body worn down by travels, but his brain won’t shut up. Does Jaemin have trouble sleeping, too? He must be awake, still. Or again. The time difference between Germany and the UK is only one hour after all.

It’s hopeless. Jeno throws the blanket off and gets up.

Jeno knocks on his sister’s door. There's a muffled “huh” and he enters quietly, pressing his pillow against his chest.

“Can I sleep here?”

She looks at him, eyes glinting in the dark, before she scoots back and makes space for him. Once he lies down she starts carding her fingers through his hair the way she used to when Jeno still let her play with him. Feels like lifetimes ago now.

“We haven't done this since you were a little grasshopper.”

Jeno hears the question in her voice. “We used to share. Jaemin and I. And – my bed just. It's so empty and I can't sleep.”

“Aw. It's okay. You'll get used to it again.”

Jeno nods but he doesn’t know how. How does one meet a person like Jaemin and then relearn how to live without him?

How does one cut the thread that fate handed to them so carefully?

“Tell me about him?” Eunjin asks.

“He’s… I mean, you’ve met him.”

“But I don’t know him like you do.”

 _Nobody knows him like I do_ , Jeno thinks. “He’s… very kind. He’s genuinely nice to everyone he meets. And he has this way of always making me feel… safe, I guess. Like I could walk into a storm and come out okay if he was with me.”

“He seemed like a lovely person when he was here.”

“He is.” Jeno swallows. “I’m going to miss him a lot.”

“I think you already do.”

Jeno doesn’t say anything and Eunjin brushes his hair away from his forehead.

“You know, Jen,” she says, “sometimes we just have to keep the memory as it is and… cherish it. We have to be thankful that we get to have it in the first place, even though we wish we had more. Sometimes we have to set things free. That’s how the world turns.”

Jeno is beyond grateful that he got to find Jaemin but it’s hard to feel it under all that ache and exhaustion. Maybe tomorrow it will all look different – maybe tomorrow, or the day after that, he’ll call this home again without the weird tug in his stomach. Maybe it’s going to be alright, even without Jaemin.

Eunjin leans forward and pinches Jeno’s shoulder. “Sleep well, nerd.”

It takes forever until he falls into a fitful and restless sleep.

Jeno never realised just how tiny his village is but the difference is shocking now. It’s a shoebox full of people that think they know him. It’s a chest full of pebbles. A pond full of the same few fish.

A collection of houses in the middle of nowhere.

For a few days, it’s a nice distraction. Jeno feels like he can see the village from the perspective of a tourist now, fresh eyes and all, and notices all the small differences. Life is so _slow_ here. No one’s rushed to do anything. Everything is quiet and sweet and relaxed. People have time to close their eyes and sit in the shade, especially now that the tail end summer is here with all its humid, sweltering power before the autumn winds turn chilly.

Jeno has missed this – strolling through the alleys and roads, holding his nose into the slight breeze for relief, greeting every person by name. He knows his way around here and would never get lost, not in a million years, and being back feels like returning to a freshly made bed with the sheets smelling of every single thing that reminds him of home.

But at the end of the day it’s just a trap.

It takes less than a week before Jeno thinks he’s going insane. It starts like an itch in his bones, an _where are we going today_ before he realises that there is no _we_ and there is no _where_. There’s only _here_ , this tiny little village full of nothing.

He runs around the fields twice just to breathe a little harder, to feel a little more alive. He stares at Jaemin’s number for five minutes while catching his breath, sweat running down his spine, before he remembers it’s the middle of the night where Jaemin is.

Jaemin had warned him. Had told him that he won’t come home unchanged, but Jeno didn’t think it would be like this. Like a cage full of things he’s supposed to love, that he _still_ loves, except they’re slowly sucking the life out of him.

He didn’t think he’d go that _far_. That was never the plan. It was supposed to be just Seoul – leaving would have been so much easier then, when things just barely begun.

But the tug had always been there. Jeno figures it would always have been hard. Near impossible – leaving Jaemin. He’d done it anyway, in the end.

It has to stop, Jeno thinks and closes his eyes against the morning sun. No wound bleeds forever unless you have a condition. This, too, will scab and itch and turn into a silvery scar.

One day it won’t hurt.

Jeno picks up his job at the little store again, just to have something to do.

Not that there’s actually much of a distraction. He spends his time rereading novels, finding himself skimming the same line over and over again when he starts thinking about all the things he could report to Jaemin instead in the middle of reading. He talks to the customers, tells them about the skyscrapers in Dubai and the beer in Germany and the bazar in Bangladesh until they run out of questions. Some of them ask him about Jaemin – “the stranger who took you away” – some don’t remember him, some don’t seem to know him at all.

Today it’s a girl whose name Jeno can’t recall, maybe twelve years old, buying some of the new ice creams they have now. She’s studying the little pin board next to the counter where they keep reminders and some pictures while Jeno counts her change.

“Who's that boy?” the girl asks, pointing.

Jeno follows the gesture. Looks at the small 2x3 picture of Jaemin that they had taken at one of those photo booths in Italy, his smile as brilliant as ever. Shark teeth. A sunrise. Four months’ worth of memories.

There are many things he could say: _my soulmate. My best friend. The boy I love_.

But in the end he just smiles ruefully and quietly says, “Someone I miss dearly.”

Jeno’s outside raking leaves. The sun is setting but it’s still hot and sometimes he hazards a glance down the street, hoping to find Jaemin there with his giant backpack and wide smile. He remembers the curiosity upon seeing him for the first time and thinks about fate. What are the chances that you’re going to fall in love with the one stranger that passes through your village?

Someone clears their throat and Jeno whips around to find Eunjin smirking at him.

“What’s up with my favourite idiot?” she quips. “Busy dreaming about your boy?”

“He’s not my boy.” He sticks his tongue out at her and she laughs.

“Whatever. Get this done soon, I’m taking you out to town.”

“What? Why?”

Her smile fades. “Because you’ve been back for over two weeks but it feels like you’re still gone.”

Jeno doesn’t remember the last time he’s gone out drinking with his sister. They’re sitting in some restaurant, stuffed full of samgyeopsal and side dishes, throwing back glass after glass of soju.

Jeno doesn’t like the taste of alcohol that much but he thinks it might ease the thoughts a little. The missing.

And for a while it does. Eunjin is a riot to be around when she wants to be, and she makes Jeno laugh so hard he almost snorts the soju up his nose. He realises he’s missed her, too, his annoying and analytical older sister who only ever teases him. He’s grateful for her now, and happy for her when she tells him about the guy she met at work.

A little while after that story, things turn blurry. Jeno remembers laughing, remembers knocking something over, remembers being inside a cab with no recollection of getting into one. The night is empty and dark, no city lights, no stars on the ground – no ten thousand watt smile anywhere near him. The void in his chest is infinite.

Jeno’s drunk. The room spins whether or not his eyes are closed and the floor doesn’t feel solid enough to stand on and walking in a straight line is impossible but he doesn’t want to move, he feels _sick_ , he feels – he feels –

“Come on,” someone says and pushes him onto his bed. He flops down without resistance, gripping the sheets like they could ground him somehow. But he’s being dragged up and for a moment he thinks he’s going to throw up but then there’s something cool and smooth in his hands.

“Jen? Drink this,” Eunjin says.

Jeno does. The water feels too cold in his throat and it’s hard to swallow but he manages. He manages.

Eunjin takes the empty glass and pushes Jeno’s hair out of his face. “Don’t choke on your own puke, sweetie.”

Steps. A door clicks closed. Jeno lies on his back, staring at the dark, blurry, still spinning rectangle of his ceiling, stomach coiling and heart empty.

He misses Jaemin.

He _misses_ Jaemin.

The alcohol doesn’t mute anything, just makes it more profound, this gaping hole in his chest that he can’t seem to fill no matter what he tries to fit into it. Jeno is alone again, so alone, surrounded by people that have known him forever but don’t know him like _that_.

Jeno wonders if _this_ is what homesickness is. Missing someone so much it's a twisted knife in his guts. Lying awake at night calculating time zones and remembering countries and swiping through not enough pictures.

Maybe homesickness and heartbreak are the same thing after all.

Jeno knew not everyone would understand.

“Of course you think you’re in love with him,” Hyuck says, inspecting his nails, legs crossed on Jeno’s bed. “He took you to see all these beautiful places and he was the only friend you had there. Of course you would, I don’t know, get too attached.”

Jeno wishes he had the words to explain this _attachment_. “I liked him before we even left. I just didn’t know how much.”

“You can’t love someone you don’t know.”

 _But it felt like I already knew him…_ “I know him now.”

Hyuck squeezes his shoulder in an attempt of comfort. Touch doesn’t mean anything anymore. “Hey, I get that you miss him. And I get that you got really close. But there’re so many people out there who can make you feel the same, you wouldn’t even know. You should go out with us some time. There’s plenty of fish in the sea and don’t expect me to ever say this again, but you’re a real catch. You won’t have any issues.”

Jeno gives up. Maybe he should feel embarrassed for loving someone so easily, so uncontrollably. But he isn’t. He doesn’t think he has the words or the ability to ever explain this to Hyuck. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am. Hey, show me the pictures of the beach again.”

Four months aren't a lot, Jeno knows that. But they certainly feel like a lot when you spend them with the same person, each and every day, orbiting each other’s space. They feel like a lot when you see a million new things every day, when there are cultures and languages and so, so many people uprooting you and there’s always just this one person keeping you on the ground.

Always Jaemin – the focal point, the spotlight, the fixed star. The lighthouse in the surf. Jeno may have started this journey to see new places but he stayed on it to be close to him, the person on the other end of this invisible string of fate.

For Jeno, four months were enough to fall in love. Less than that, even. Maybe just one moment was enough.

But it wasn’t enough time to be with Jaemin.

Now, with Hyuck babbling about the ocean in the background, Jeno realises he’s never asked Jaemin if he truly found what he was looking for. 

Jeno is helping his mum make kimchi, hands hidden in elbow-long plastic gloves that crinkle every time he rubs the red mixture between the cabbage leaves. It’s a quiet day, the kind where everyone has chores to do but no motivation to get up from the couch. Jeno didn’t, either, until his mother found him lazing around, taking her chance to rope him into helping in the house. The radio is softly playing some 80s music in the background, next door someone’s hammering something into the wall.

Quiet. Jeno doesn’t like it as much anymore since he’s heard all that noise. Learnt to love it – the sound of life happening.

He feels like the ocean is still calling his name. Or maybe that’s Jaemin. Or maybe it’s just the memory of what the waves sound like when they break against a pebbled shore.

The silence here is killing him.

“You miss him, don’t you?” his mother asks suddenly.

Jeno hesitates and glances at her. She pauses with her own box of cabbage, looking straight at him in her direct no-bullshit way. Jeno has never been able to lie under that gaze. He was raised to be honest and tries to live by that.

“Yeah,” he confesses. It feels like only a half truth. The words don’t seem nearly adequate enough to express it. _I miss him_ doesn’t sound like _I would burn all my bridges if it meant I could be with him._ It doesn’t sound like _I lie awake at night with his smile on my mind and a chest so empty the entire cosmos couldn’t fill it_.

His mum sighs and takes off her gloves. “I was afraid this would happen someday.”

“What do you mean?” Jeno asks. His mum looks so sad. He doesn’t want her to be sad but he feels it too, how even the air presses his shoulders down. Ever since he came back, really.

“That one day you would open your eyes and realise this village isn’t what you need after all.” She smiles a little. “I guess I just wanted to keep you close to me.”

“But I _am_ here,” Jeno replies. “I came back.”

“Did you?”

Jeno stays silent. A part of him didn’t. A part of him is lost to the sea.

“Of course I wish you would stay here with us. But I’m your mother and I want what’s best for you and I can tell that this boy? This journey? Nothing else could have taught you this lesson.”

“What – what lesson?”

“That you have to make a home for yourself. No matter where it may be.”

“But…” But _what_ , Jeno asks himself. He can’t just leave. Not forever. This is where he belongs. Or is it? It should be. “But I – this is my home. This is where I grew up, it’s –”

“Jeno, an uprooted tree does not grow back where it once was,” she says softly.

“But where does an uprooted tree even go? Isn’t it just firewood?”

Jeno’s mum motions him over. He takes off his gloves, too, and looks at her. She reaches out, framing his face in her warm callous hands. “Tell me, right now, what you want to do the most. If you could do anything.”

It’s not a difficult question to answer. He thinks of Jaemin standing at the shore of a lake, the sun dripping off his caramel hair, bare shoulders painted golden with light.

“Mum,” Jeno whispers, his throat closing up. His mother’s face blurs through the wall of tears. “I’m in love with him.”

 _I love him_ doesn’t sound like _I wasn’t looking for him but he found me anyway_.

It doesn’t sound like _the red string of fate led me to him_. It doesn’t sound like _he gives me peace_.

But it’s close enough.

“I know,” she says and she’s tearing up, too. He’s never been more grateful for her accepting nature.

“And he loves me.”

“I know.”

Jeno swallows. “But we can’t – we just – it’s too far – and I miss him and it hurts –”

_It’s too far and I miss him and it hurts. It’s too far and I’ve had to let go the one thing that ever felt right. It’s too far, too far for a love this intricate, and I know that but it still feels like this string was actually a lifeline that I cut._

She hugs him. Jeno feels like something inside him breaks, the carefully built frame that kept him upright since he came back. It’s all crumbling now, the posts snapping like dry straw. He feels like crying but nothing comes, just splinters in his chest.

His mum lets him sit down after a while. He’s so empty. Paralysed.

“Why is it too far?” she asks, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

Jeno gives her a frown. “Because I live here and he lives in London.”

“You see, Jeno, if you find something so precious you cannot allow yourself to throw it away.” She chuckles and wipes the snot off Jeno’s nose. “Other mothers would probably advise you to forget this boy. Dismiss it as a summer fling. But I know you. You don’t fall in love with just anyone, do you? If you really want something you have to be brave and do what you can to keep it. You owe it to yourself to at least try.”

“So you – you’re telling me to move away for him?”

She laughs. “I’m telling you to talk to him and see if you can make it work. If you’re both willing to make sacrifices to keep each other.”

“What if he’s not? What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then at least you tried. Wouldn’t that give you closure? Knowing you gave it a shot?”

“M-maybe…”

“Go and call him or something. You kids are so dramatic,” she says, shooing him out of the kitchen. “You’ll just ruin my kimchi.”

Jeno doesn’t call him. It’s night where Jaemin is, light years away from him, so he sends a message instead. He can’t tell Jaemin exactly what he feels. He can’t even type ‘I miss you.’

In the end, all he sends is an ‘I hope you are well.’

Jaemin calls him the next day.

Jeno comes out of the bathroom when he hears his phone, the specific ringtone he’d set for Jaemin (Blair’s _Back to You,_ just in case), and it takes a moment for it to click but once it does, he nearly slips on the wooden floors when he sprints to his room.

He’s breathless when he picks up but Jaemin is, too, when he says hello and Jeno wonders why but it’s _Jaemin_ and he’s _missed_ him and it’s so easy to forget about everything else.

“Nana,” he says.

Jaemin laughs, clear and bright and so much _less_ than the real thing, gritty through the speaker, but it’s him and it’s all that matters. “Hello, stranger.”

Jeno doesn't get the questions out – _do you miss me so much too, do you think about visiting me, can you sleep, I can’t live this life without you, have you been doing well, I miss you I miss you imissyousomuch._

Jaemin doesn't seem to, either, and they make strange small talk like the distance between them reaches even their conversation, like both of them are guarded, worried about saying goodbye again.

Still, it’s good to hear the timber of Jaemin’s voice. His even deeper laugh when Jeno makes a terrible pun. It’s good to know he’s doing okay, even when it hurts.

In the end Jeno tells him about his neighbour’s party and says, “I wish you could have seen it,” and it’s as close to “I wish you were here” as he gets.

“Yeah,” Jaemin agrees, the same sadness making his voice thick. “I wish I had, too.”

They call each other almost every day after that. Jeno doesn’t know if it’s a good thing; how is he supposed to let go of Jaemin if he doesn’t get any space?

Not that Jeno wants to let him go. But doesn’t this just complicate things further? They’re building their lives back up in different parts of the world and Jeno isn’t bold enough to ask him to come back here, isn’t selfish enough. And he knows he can’t leave home himself, not right now, not for long term.

So what are they even doing?

And then five days into this new routine Jaemin asks, “Hey, is your connection good enough for facetime?” and Jeno asks himself why it took them so long to think of this.

A few minutes later they’re shouting at each other, questioning if the other can hear them, and then Jeno is laughing and Jaemin is laughing and he kind of wants to cry.

Even on Jeno’s cracked six inch screen Jaemin is glowing. He must be at home given the background noise and shadows. He’s leaning in close and beams, all his teeth on display, and Jeno knows this is it. There’s no going back. Home is a boy far away and it’s this boy he wants and he’ll do anything, _anything_ , to keep him in his life, even when seeing him on his phone will never feel like enough.

“Lee Jeno,” Jaemin greets. “Handsome as ever, I see.”

“How are you?” Jeno asks.

“You’ve asked me that fifteen minutes ago.”

“It’s different when I can read your face.”

Jaemin grins again. “Now that I’m looking at you I feel great.”

“Ugh,” Jeno says but he blushes anyway. “Can’t believe I missed you.”

Just like that, the truths come spilling out one by one. Jaemin couldn’t sleep, either, that first week back at home, and he had no siblings he could crawl into bed with. He tried finding a job to keep busy because he’s going nuts in all that _sameness_ every day. His parents feel like strangers, his childhood bedroom like someone else’s. Jeno tells him he regularly runs himself tired because otherwise he feels antsy. They miss each other.

None of them is doing all that great but they both manage. They manage.

Jeno doesn’t want to hang up but by now it’s three am and his voice is hoarse and Jaemin looks exhausted.

“Same time tomorrow?” Jaemin asks.

“Sure,” Jeno agrees. “Have a good evening, Nana.”

“Dream of me, Jen.”

Jeno smiles and hangs up. Jaemin is all he ever dreams of these days.

Just like that, Jaemin finds ways to sneak into Jeno’s life. There’s a picture on the fridge now, of the two of them in Verona that Jeno had sent to Eunjin. Whenever a particularly funny or interesting thing happens in the village Jeno is already thinking of how he’ll tell Jaemin about it the next time he calls.

Suddenly there’s a tomorrow that involves Jaemin again, at least in some form.

It keeps Jeno going. He’s almost used to it again, the smallness of the village, the vastness of the fields, the familiar faces in the streets. But he misses the adventure, too. More than anything, he misses feeling Jaemin’s presence next to him, being able to touch him and hear his laugh in person.

Then there are the things they don’t talk about. The future. The kisses. What they’re doing right now, where it might lead.

It’s better like this, but it still doesn’t feel like enough and Jeno knows one day they’ll have to confront this.

They’re on the phone still, morning where Jeno is, night where Jaemin is. Jeno doesn’t know how many hours it’s been; they’re both tired, voices raw, and Jaemin’s face on the screen is squished against his arm where he’s resting on the mattress. They should sleep – or Jaemin should – but none of them wants to hang up.

Jeno is so delirious he’s not sure what they’re even talking about. He just likes to listen to the soft low rumble of Jaemin’s voice, grainy through the speaker and even deeper than usual from lack of sleep. It’s comforting, warmer than the blanket he has haphazardly thrown over his legs.

Outside, the sun is already up and awake, having started the day long ago on this side of the planet. It’s trying to sneak its rays into Jeno’s room but the curtains try their best to keep its violent light out. For now. Just a little longer.

“Jeno,” Jaemin mumbles then and Jeno focuses back on his phone display. “Jen, I don’t think I want to live this life without you.”

Jeno frowns. “You aren’t. I’m here, right? We’re talking.”

Jaemin huffs, propping himself up on his elbows. He means business, Jeno realises, and something about that makes him smile. Sometimes Jaemin gets so serious about small things, like picking flowers or choosing a meal.

Although this, Jeno thinks, is not a small thing at all.

“No, I mean, I don’t want to keep doing _this_. Calling you and having to listen to all your stories without really being a part of them.”

“So… what?”

“I want to come see you.”

The curtains part with the morning breeze and the light streams in. “W-what?”

“Please.” Jaemin tips his head to the side, eyes huge and pleading, like he’s really thinking Jeno is going to say no. “Jen, please. I know it’s hard. But I – can I please come see you?”

“Of course,” Jeno says and his voice breaks in the middle of it. “When?”

All of a sudden Jaemin is smiling. He’s outshining the brilliant sunlight that’s forcing its way into Jeno’s room, like liquid gold running through Jeno’s fingers. “As soon as possible.”

Jeno forgets that he was tired. He forgets that he felt like a live butterfly pinned to a Styrofoam board. He forgets that saying hello might mean saying goodbye again.

“Holy shit,” he replies. “Are you serious?”

Jaemin laughs and rolls onto his back. “I’m going to check tickets as soon as we hang up. Or do you have any – like, is it alright if I just come over randomly? Can I even stay with you? What about –”

“You can stay with me,” Jeno interrupts. “Anytime. But go to sleep before you book tickets. It’s late.”

Jaemin grins at him again. God, Jeno will never get tired of that smile. All his fractured pieces are falling back into place. “See you soon, star boy.”

Jeno snorts. “Goodnight, stranger.”

They hang up.

Jeno bolts down the stairs as soon as the screen goes dark, his heart beating and beating against his ribs like it’s trying to fly. He feels like he could.

“Mum!” He skids to a halt in the kitchen, where his sister and mother are putting away breakfast.

“Finally up, huh,” Eunjin says with a judgemental twitch of her eyebrow.

“I talked to Nana,” Jeno says breathlessly. “He can stay here for a while, right?”

His mum whips around. “Is he planning on coming here again?”

Jeno grins. He has the irrational desire to squeal and jump and he thinks he might just do that once he’s outside. “As soon as he can.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t see him again,” Eunjin says.

“I thought that, too,” Jeno replies. God, he can’t _breathe_. “But he said – it’s just –”

“Oh, sweetie,” Jeno’s mum says, smiling as she brushes her hands over his shoulders. “He’s so in love with you. Don’t let him get away again.”

“I won’t. I won’t.”

Jeno sobers up later that day, when the worries come. Of _course_ they come; they always do.

Because Jeno knows Jaemin can’t stay forever.

And what then?

Then they’ll have to say goodbye. Again. Probably for indefinite time. Again.

It’s easy to ignore these thoughts with the prospect of seeing Jaemin soon, but that doesn’t erase the problem. Jeno promises himself that he’ll talk to Jaemin about this. To be an adult and confront the issue instead of always running away. It’s always been so easy to give in to Jaemin and his ideas, but this is about the future. It’s not that easy. They have to talk about what they both want because Jeno can’t just keep saying yes, can’t stay in this undefined in-between for ever without moving on.

Life is not a dream, not even when you’ve found your soulmate.

That night, Jaemin sends a simple text right before Jeno goes to sleep, followed by a picture of his flight reservation: _see u in_ _two weeks, baby_. Jeno closes his eyes and dreams of holding him close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading <3 
> 
> find me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ki_jaemjen)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ki_jaemin)


	12. Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what it means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs:  
> I will spend my whole life loving you – imaginary future  
> please stay – francois kluk  
> the few things – jp saxe  
> little wanderer – death cab for cutie  
> as long as I have you I’m home – imaginary future
> 
> enjoy!

_“Do you know what the luckiest thing is? It is to be at home everywhere.” – Ben Okri_

These two weeks are simultaneously the longest and shortest two weeks of Jeno’s entire life but somehow they pass. Jeno can’t sleep the night before Jaemin arrives, instead spends the night texting Hyuck and watching ASMR videos to calm down, and then gets up to clean his already impeccable room. There’s a guest futon on the floor that Jaemin probably won’t sleep on anyway and it’s all a little surreal.

Jeno isn’t even sure what they are. They’re not together but they’re not just friends, either, and Jeno adds this to a list of questions he’s going to have to be brave enough for to ask.

The day of Jaemin’s arrival is full of getting the house ready. It’s like his family is expecting some kind of royalty and not Jeno’s travel buddy who slept on the ground in various countries before. Jeno appreciates the effort anyways and it keeps his mind busy, too.

“You look terrible,” Eunjin says for probably the third time that evening. “He’s gonna take one look at you and be like, _ew_ , I’m leaving.”

“Be nice,” Chanwoo, her new boyfriend, says to her. Jeno smiles at him but honestly he couldn’t care less about Eunjin and her remarks right now.

They’re waiting at the train station in town – just the three of them since Jeno’s parents are preparing dinner. Some people are mingling on the platform, probably waiting to catch a bus or train home after work.

It had taken Jaemin an entire day to convince Jeno not to come to Incheon Airport. “You’ll see me soon enough,” he’d said. “Don’t spend your money on nonsense. I promise I’ll be there.”

It drives Jeno nuts to know that Jaemin is already here, in this country, just a few minutes away according to his texts. Jeno’s palms are sweaty and his sister keeps laughing at him, but it bounces right off him. Nothing can destroy him today; nothing can keep him from seeing Jaemin.

He checks the announcement board again: just one minute until the train from Incheon arrives.

“Jesus, Jen,” Eunjin sniggers. “You’re practically vibrating.”

She’s not wrong. His hands are trembling a little now and he can’t keep still, keeps pacing the platform until the sound of an approaching train stills him.

“Is this the one?” Chanwoo asks.

“It has to be.”

“Bit early, huh? Lucky!”

“Oh my God, Jeno, please stay conscious, yeah? I’d be embarrassed if you…”

Jeno doesn’t listen to the rest. He’s watching the sleek grey train slide into the building, slowing and eventually coming to a stop with squeaking brakes.

This is it.

Jeno’s going to see Jaemin again when he thought he never would. He’s going to touch him, hug him, breathe in his smell and hold his hand – his chest is hitching already, full of unshed tears and words and feelings.

It’s only been two months but ‘only’ is relative when every day feels like ten years apart.

The doors open and people start spilling out. Jeno doesn’t know which cabin Jaemin is in but Jaemin’s already told him what he’s wearing to make it easier to spot him. Plus he’s tall and even in a world as huge as this one they will always find each other because they’re made of the same star dust and –

“Nana!” Jeno calls and before he even properly realises what he’s seeing he’s running.

Jaemin is running, too. Jaemin, who just stepped out of the train and immediately caught Jeno’s eye in his alarm-red sweater and with a suitcase covered in a million stickers. Said suitcase gets left behind as Jaemin sprints the last few metres and hurls himself into Jeno’s waiting arms, nearly knocking them both over, but Jeno doesn’t care.

Jaemin’s here. The same firm chest pressed against his, the brunette hair tickling where he’s hiding his face in Jaemin’s neck, the same warm scent of home.

“Jeno, I missed you,” Jaemin mumbles against his neck. “It hurt so much, I –”

Jeno understands. He understands. Missing Jaemin was a tidal wave; he thought he could stand it but then the floor got dragged out from right under his feet and he found himself drowning in it. “Me, too.” _A part of me went missing when you left_.

Jeno doesn’t know how long they stand there like this, just hugging each other. He doesn’t really care.

He has spent countless nights wanting to hold Jaemin like this. Wishing and wishing upon the relentless stars that the universe would send him back to him, so he’d get to hold him like this just once. Rib to rib, so close they’re breathing together, the expanse of Jaemin’s back warm and solid and alive under his arms.

He’s wished for Jaemin’s face to be pressed into the crook of his neck, the flutter of his eyelashes tickling his skin. He’s dreamt of burying his hand in the hair at Jaemin’s nape, the other wrapped around his shoulders to keep him close.

He’s wanted to know what that feels like – having your home so near. Having a wish come true. Breathing him in, knowing he won’t have to be afraid of breathing out.

Jeno has spent countless nights wishing for Jaemin to stay with him, even when they were still together.

And he’s here now. Standing at the same train station that they started their journey on, with Jaemin nestled against him so tightly that Jeno finally feels complete.

Jaemin pulls back a little bit to look at Jeno, framing his cheeks with his hands. His eyes are shining with the kind of desperation and relief that only comes with missing the one thing you need most in your life and Jeno is a little bit starstruck.

“Please let me stay. Jeno, please,” Jaemin begs. “You're the one place I never want to leave and I know it hasn't been long but I’m in love with you. I love you. I _love_ you. I never got to say it but I truly do. You're the house at the end of the desert. I'm tired of always walking away.”

“Jaemin.” _Of course you can stay_ , Jeno thinks. _I was about to go out into the world to come looking for you._

But he doesn't say it; he kisses him instead, right here at the train station, with a bunch of strangers and half his family watching. They don’t exist to Jeno right now. It’s Jaemin and him in their own orbit, so far away from everything else.

It feels like coming home.

Jeno wishes they could have some time to themselves but upon entering the house Jaemin is swept away by Jeno’s mum, placed at the table and bombarded with questions while the rest of the family has to help get dinner ready.

Jeno can tell Jaemin is tired from where he’s sitting across from him now. He’s smiling at everything Jeno’s father is telling him but the dark circles under his eyes speak of his twenty-hour flights and eventually Jeno puts his foot down.

“Mum,” he says. “Jaemin has been on the move for ages. Please let him rest.”

Jeno’s mum gasps and apologises immediately. “Oh gosh! Feel free to get up and take a shower, or whatever you like, Jaemin. You must be exhausted. There are fresh sheets and towels in Jeno’s room.”

Jaemin smiles gratefully. “A shower would be nice.”

“Don’t bother, Jen,” Eunjin says when Jeno makes to get up. “I’ll show him.”

Jeno knows exactly she only does this to get out of cleaning the table but he lets her. His parents are looking at him weirdly, as if to analyse him, and it makes Jeno feel awkward.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” his father says. “It’s just interesting to see you around him.”

His mum nods. “He must really like you if he travels this far just to see you.”

“Yeah,” Jeno says slowly. “Yeah, I was thinking of doing the same for him.”

Jeno waits in his room when his family finally lets him go and eventually Jaemin emerges, freshly showered and dressed in his usual loose shirt and shorts. He smiles at Jeno and Jeno watches him rummage around in his suitcase to get items out.

Jeno still can’t believe he’s here. In the two months apart Jaemin hasn’t really changed but it still feels so surreal to have him here, as if he was never gone and yet as if he’s all new. It reminds Jeno of the days before their entire adventure started. It feels like that was a different life. They’re different people now.

Eventually Jaemin sits down next to Jeno with a piece of paper in his hand, the mattress dipping under his weight. He smells like Jeno’s own shower gel when he leans in.

“I wrote you a letter when I was waiting for my flight,” Jaemin says quietly. “You know, right after you left, in Berlin. I never sent it to you but I figured you should have it anyways. So, um. Here.”

Jeno snorts and takes it before he gets up and walks over to his desk. “I wrote you one, too. But I’m an idiot and forgot to give it to you at the airport.”

“Oh my God.” Jaemin laughs and accepts the envelope and Jeno sits back down to read Jaemin’s, shoulders pressed together like that first night when Jaemin asked for a secret.

The paper looks like it’s been folded and unfolded countless times. Jeno is careful when he flattens it now – just one page with Jaemin’s tight handwriting on it.

_To: Lee Jeno, the best person I know_

_Ok, first of all, I’m not a letter writer and I’m also not a book nerd like you, but for you I really tried my best._

_Because damn, Jeno, nothing has ever hurt me like letting you go just did. And it’s really proof of how much you mean to me because I always leave people behind. I always move on. But I don’t know how to leave you and I don’t know how to forget you, so I won’t. I won’t because I love you. I’ve loved you for ages and sometimes I think I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you in your front yard among the flowers just because it feels like we’ve been fated like that. Sometimes I think I’ve loved you before we even met. Maybe that’s why I always had to leave. To find you. Wouldn’t that be cute?_

_This journey taught me a lot. But it’s still you who’s taught me the most, and the most important parts, and I will always, always be grateful for that._

_You’ve taught me peace and you’ve taught me patience and you’ve taught me what it means to be loved. What it means to_ belong _. Maybe one day the stars will smile upon us and have us meet again and the time will be right and there won’t be goodbyes. I can’t possibly leave you without that thought of seeing you again._

_Lee Jeno, I am yours. And if you only ever remember this: nothing will ever be able to make me un-love you. Nothing. You’re home to me._

_I love you,_

_Jaemin_

Jeno folds the letter and waits until Jaemin has finished his before he crawls onto Jaemin’s lap. Jaemin thumbs the tears on his cheeks away, never breaking eye-contact, and Jeno lets everything pour out without shame. This is Jaemin. He’s already seen everything there is to him.

“I’ve missed you,” Jeno whispers. “And I love you more than anything in the world, and I don’t want you to leave again.”

At first their kiss is salty and tastes like the ocean, like gentle careful waves, dipping a toe in to test the waters. But then Jaemin’s hands squeeze Jeno’s hips, pull him closer and Jeno lifts his own hands to hold Jaemin’s face and then the water is everywhere, dragging them both under the surface until they have to come up for air. Jaemin gasps against Jeno’s lips and leans in again, kisses him harder, bruising, with all the want and yearning that Jeno has felt in his bones, too. It’s a kiss that says, _I’ve missed you_ and _I’ve wanted you_ and _I’m finally with you and I’ll never let you go_.

By the time they pull apart, Jeno’s chest is burning and his mouth is numb and swollen and Jaemin’s cheeks are as red as the strawberries they sell in the shops during summer, but it barely feels like enough. They’ve lost so much time already and Jeno leans in again, just for one more kiss, this one gentle and soft and soothing. It’s an _I’m here. I’m here now_.

“Please promise me you won’t send me away,” Jaemin whispers, voice hoarse. “Please tell me I can stay in your life. I don’t care in which form, I just – I need you, Jeno. Past, present, future.”

“I promise,” Jeno says.

They fall asleep like that, pressed against each other on Jeno’s futon, tangled up and as close as they can be. No more miles between them. No more distance.

Jaemin is going to stay for two weeks. It’s not much, not _enough_ , but it’s better than nothing, so Jeno doesn’t complain. It feels a little like a dream – to wake up with Jaemin next to him in his own room, to spend the days with him, sometimes lazing around, sometimes helping Jeno’s parents. Jeno marvels at the warmth of Jaemin’s skin against his, the web of his veins right under his skin, the way his mouth quirks to the side sometimes when he’s saying something. All of the things that he knew from before, things that are so different when they’re not on the screen of his phone or just a figment of his memories, washed out more and more with each day he’d spent without him. This is Jaemin, flesh and blood, next to Jeno, as if he belongs there.

As if he _belongs_.

Jeno is too shy to ask. Too scared that maybe Jaemin will go off to search again, that maybe he hasn’t found that piece of himself that he so desperately seeks. It’s one of the very first things he ever learnt about Jaemin. That he was incomplete. That he had nowhere and everywhere to go.

Somehow they still ended up here, in each other’s arms.

But it’s not forever. The question is how long this will be good enough for Jaemin.

Jaemin and Jeno are on Jeno’s bed watching a drama one evening when the door flies open and Hyuck barrels into the room.

“Stop sucking face and entertain me, bitches!” he demands and while Jeno’s still trying to recover from his heart attack, Jaemin’s already jumping up.

“Hyuck! How are you?”

“Good, you fucker! How are _you_? You done kidnapping my best friend yet?”

Jaemin grins. “For now maybe.”

Hyuck eventually settles on the bed with them when enough hugs and hellos have been exchanged. Apparently he heard from his mum that Jaemin is here. Word spreads fast in a small village like this.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again, Na,” Hyuck says, fixing Jaemin with a stare. “You here to stay or what?”

Jaemin smiles sheepishly. “If Jeno lets me?”

“Interesting. You guys should come to town with me,” Hyuck says. “Meet the rest of the guys, sniff some city air, have some fun instead of withering away here.”

“Maybe we should,” Jaemin says with a side glance to Jeno. Jeno meets his eyes and shrugs; if Jaemin wants to go, they will. It might be fun after all.

“When are you leaving again?” Jeno asks.

“Tomorrow after lunch,” Hyuck says. “I’m just here to pick you up, really.”

“Well. Alright then.”

They take the bus with Hyuck. Jeno feels younger like this, knowing he’s going to meet Hyuck’s friends from university. He has before, but a while back, and it’s different when Jaemin’s with him. Everything is different. So much has changed.

The campus isn’t huge like the one Jeno saw in Seoul but it’s pretty nonetheless. Hyuck walks them across it, explaining the faculty buildings as they go, and then leads them up three flights of stairs to his dorm room.

It’s messy, as expected. Hyuck kicks a pile of laundry into the corner to make space for all of them and then flops down on his bed. “Home sweet home.”

Jeno and Jaemin exchange a glance.

“Nice posters,” Jaemin remarks, looking at several Michael Jackson prints.

“Right?” Hyuck says, grinning.

“And we can really just sleep here?” Jeno asks, setting his bag down. “Like, isn’t there a landlord we should inform or something?”

Hyuck quirks an eyebrow in his direction. “Oh Jeno, you sweet summer child. The accommodation people don’t allow overnight guests, so we’re keeping it hush-hush.”

“You’re saying this is illegal?”

“Yes, but don’t worry about it. Also, we’re separating you guys for the night,” Hyuck continues, cutting Jaemin off when he takes a breath to protest. “Don’t even try. I know the drill, okay, you’d be like oooh _no_ , Hyuck, we won’t even _kiss_ , but once you think I’m asleep one of you will get kinky and honestly I don’t trust you, Jaemin. So – don’t look at me like that – so Jeno, you sleep here, and Jaemin sleeps in Yangyang’s room. He has a girlfriend, so no need to get jelly.”

“You’re terrible,” Jaemin says.

Hyuck smiles as if complimented. “Get used to it. Come on, let’s meet the others.”

‘The others’ are waiting in the common room of the third floor and Jeno can hear them before Hyuck even kicks open the door.

The people closest to the entrance shut up and look who just came in, others are greeting Hyuck and the rest just continue whatever it is they’re doing until Hyuck screams loud enough that it gets everyone’s attention. He quickly introduces them while Jeno awkwardly glances around the room and counts fifteen heads.

Hyuck’s social circle is bigger than every person Jeno knows combined, which honestly isn’t a surprise. It’s still difficult to go around the room and learn so many things at once – names and faces, who’s whose boyfriend or girlfriend or best friend, who lives together and who’s related.

It doesn’t take twenty minutes until Jaemin is friends with all of them and, by extension, Jeno is, too. It’s a little strange, trying to be comfortable in a group of strangers, but with Hyuck there to mediate they don’t really _feel_ like strangers.

“Are you going out with us?” a girl with long dark hair asks. Jeno thinks she’s called Heejin but he’s not entirely sure anymore.

Jeno turns to Jaemin. “I think so? Yeah.”

“They are,” Hyuck says in passing. “Please watch them in case they try to run away.”

“Why would they run away?” a guy with very straight teeth asks. “I thought they’re here to have fun.”

Hyuck cackles. “They’re like an old married couple. They have a different understanding of fun.”

“That’s _so_ not true,” Jaemin cuts in.

“Oh yeah?” the guys asks. “Do shots with me later and prove it.”

“You’re on.”

Jeno can’t stop looking at Jaemin’s predatory smile. It’s another version of him that Jeno hasn’t seen much of before and he wonders how many more sides Jaemin has, if he’ll ever know all of them.

Turns out the guy with the straight teeth is Yangyang. He looks somewhat like a golden retriever puppy but Jeno very quickly learns that he’s more on the side of Chaotic Evil and he’s one hundred per cent to blame for how fast Jaemin and Jeno get drunk.

Not that Jeno’s really complaining. He can still somewhat walk in a straight line, at the very least, and he’s stopped stressing about learning everybody’s name, and with Jaemin so close to him they don’t matter that much anyways.

And damn, Jaemin’s really close. Jeno can feel the heat of his body against his side when they follow Yangyang and some other guy onto the dance floor. Jeno has no recollection of how they got to this club in the first place but it seems like a minuscule problem.

“Do you want to dance?” Jaemin asks, putting a little bit of distance between them just to grip Jeno’s hips and pull him in again.

“Don’t care,” Jeno replies. He can’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to the edge of Jaemin’s jaw, lingering a little bit longer than necessary before he pulls away. It’s easy to be bold right now. Something in his blood is whispering to him, out of control and shaking everything apart.

Jaemin’s toothy smile is contorted by strobe lights and darkness, but it’s simultaneously the hottest thing Jeno’s ever seen in his young life. He can’t decide if he wants to stare forever or attach himself to Jaemin and kiss him senseless.

Jaemin reaches for Jeno’s hand and spins him, a terrible idea when both of them are this tipsy, but somehow Jeno doesn’t trip and die and instead ends up flush against Jaemin’s chest.

“You seem so happy,” Jaemin says. “What was I even doing before I met you?”

“Looking for me.”

There’s something about kissing Jaemin here, in the centre of this club with so many people surrounding them. It really doesn’t matter where they are – as long as they’re together, they’re home. It reminds Jeno about something he’s read before, something about home being a condition and not a location, and Jeno understands it now. Understands what that means. Home was never just a place – home is family; home is feeling safe; home is loving and being loved in return.

“Hey,” Jeno says, resting his forehead against Jaemin’s. He isn’t sure if Jaemin even heard him over all the noise.

“Hey yourself.”

Jeno giggles and leans in but before he can kiss Jaemin again he’s being dragged away by someone who turns out to be Hyuck.

“Stop being disgusting and come drink with us,” Hyuck says, mildly annoyed and pulls them back into the direction of the bar. “Jaemin, I dare you to do body shots off of Jeno.”

After that, the night turns blurry.

Jeno finds himself on the floor of Hyuck’s dorm room in the early morning hours, flat on the futon and sobered up a little from the walk back and the bottle of water someone had forced him to drink.

“Nana says Yangyang snores,” Jeno says, staring at his phone. Jaemin’s message is accompanied by about a hundred different emojis and Jeno laughs.

Hyuck scoffs. “He’s texting you? God, it’s like you’re attached at the hip.”

“Can you blame us? I didn’t even think I’d see him again and now – now he –”

“Ugh, you’re _so_ disgusting. No one should be allowed to be this whipped, like ever.”

“One day you’ll catch it real bad for someone, too,” Jeno says.

Hyuck makes a face at him. “Never. God hasn’t created a person good enough for my standards.”

They both giggle, though Jeno thinks that might be true.

“I’m happy for you, though,” Hyuck says then. “I didn’t think it would last but I get it now, everything you said about him. He couldn’t hide the way he looks at you even if he tried.”

Jeno presses his face into the futon. “He makes me really happy.”

“Good. Otherwise I’d have to beat him up and I really _don’t_ want to do that. But can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What’s gonna happen next?”

Jeno pushes himself up on his elbows. Hyuck is sprawled on top of his covers because he can sleep without them, like the demon he is. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how are you going to make it work? Are you going to stay in the village? Is he going to fly back and forth all the time? I’m not saying it’s impossible but long distance is hard.”

Jeno worries at his bottom lip. “I actually… I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it, he just said he doesn’t want me to send him away.”

“Well, you should address it some time. Just, you know. To make sure you’re on the same page.”

“Yeah. I will.”

“You’re really serious about him, huh?”

“I can’t explain with words just _how_ serious.”

“Well. Just a reminder that you’re both twenty-somethings and that things are bound to change.”

“When the hell did you get so wise? Have you been reading actual books? And I _know_. But I want to go through all these changes _with_ him.”

Hyuck whistles quietly. “God damn. Need me a love like this.”

“Lower your standards first.”

“Never. Goodnight, Jeno.”

“Night, Hyuck.”

Lunch the next day is fairly quiet, given that everyone is more or less hungover. They’ve missed the breakfast times at the cafeteria and Jaemin looks rumpled but still lets Jeno steal some of his rice off of his tray.

Jeno’s thinking about his conversation with Hyuck. He should address it soon and quit being so scared of the future. They’re adults; they should talk like that, too.

The rest of the day is relaxed, too. Hendery invites them over to his room where they play video games until Jeno gets a headache. They order jjajangmyeon and then one of Hyuck’s friends drops them off at the bus station with his car.

They’re silent, seated next to each other. When Jeno looks out the window, he sees his own reflection first and then the street illuminated by street lamps. The bus engine rumbles comfortingly, carrying them to a broader road.

“Jaemin, what are we going to do?” Jeno asks after a while. Somehow it’s always easier to say the really important things after dark, when Jaemin can’t see him and read his fears off his face. “About us, I mean.”

It’s quiet for a moment and Jaemin shuffles closer, thigh pressed against thigh.

“I’ll move to the town here,” Jaemin says, voice thick. “I’ll get a job and a flat and I’ll wait until you’re ready to move out –”

“Nana, I can’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not. It’s what I want.”

“Is it really? You said yourself you weren’t made to settle –”

“Jen, I had it all wrong.” Jaemin sounds like he’s about to cry and Jeno can feel his breath hitching. He wills himself not to look. “I wasn’t made to settle _without you_. I was made to go out into the world and look for you and now, now that I know where you are, that’s where I wanna be, too. Please don’t send me away. Please don’t.”

“I – are you sure?”

“As sure as the moon pulls the tide to the shore.”

“But life is slow here. It’s different. You'll get bored.”

Jaemin nuzzles his face into Jeno’s shoulder. “Not as long as you're around.”

“You can't throw your life away for me. What if you end up being a rice farmer?”

“Jeno, if I have to be a rice farmer for the rest of my life to be with you, then I will be the happiest rice farmer in the world.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Just for you.” Jaemin presses a kiss to the crown of Jeno’s. “I love you.”

Jeno sighs and shuffles closer. That’s all he ever wants to do, where he wants to be – always close to Jaemin. He didn’t know that being loved would feel like this. Maybe all the poetry and songs and movies should have prepared him but somehow they didn’t, somehow he’s still surprised by how much one can feel for another person and how much another person can feel for _him_ , the simplest country boy there is.

Jeno isn’t completely sure if Jaemin really means what he said or if it was just the moment talking and it’s stupid and naïve, but for tonight, for right now, he lets himself have this.

There are only a few more days left before Jaemin flies back home and the anxiety manifests itself in the form of a stomach ache. Jeno can’t stop worrying about it, about what’s going to happen. He should ask Jaemin again – _make sure you’re on the same page_ , he hears Hyuck say in his head – but it’s difficult when you’re so scared of the answer. It’s hard to find the courage. Jaemin seems so careless in comparison, unconcerned and bright as always.

“You’re going back soon,” Jeno says eventually. They’re in the backyard, sweeping wood shavings out of Jeno’s father’s small shed. “Is there a plan for what happens after?”

Jaemin shrugs. “I guess I’ll talk to my parents. And then… research.”

“You should think it through some more,” Jeno says, staring at the ground. The dust from the shavings is settling slowly, made visible by the slanted afternoon sun. It looks a little like glitter. “This isn’t a light decision.”

Jaemin looks at him, eyes a little narrowed. 

“I just mean – your parents are going to think you're crazy. Leaving home to stay with some dude you met not even half a year ago. Thinking about moving to the countryside of South Korea for him,” Jeno says. It _is_ crazy, voicing it out loud, like something that would happen in a romance novel and not real life – least of all Jeno’s life. It’s impossible to believe in.

“You're not just some dude. And I've done crazier things.” Jaemin hesitates. His fingertips are stained with dirt. “I think my mum is happy that I finally found somewhere to stay. Someone. She wants to meet you, you know.”

“She does?”

“Yeah. I actually wanted to ask if you want to come back to the UK with me and meet everyone and see where I grew up and stuff, but I get if you’re busy or something. We could talk to them together and I don’t know, get some advice from people who’ve been in a relationship for a long time. How’s that sound?”

Jeno is going to miss Chuseok if he goes with Jaemin. He hasn’t spent a single Chuseok outside of his village, ever. His mum will be annoyed.

But things have changed. Things _are_ changing. He’s doing this because he wants to believe in a future that has Jaemin in it.

“I’d love to meet your family,” Jeno says.

Jaemin smiles. Jeno wonders if he’d taste like the blueberries they had earlier.

“They’ll love you,” Jaemin says quietly. “They won’t want to let you go back home.”

“Maybe I won’t want to, either.”

Jaemin smiles harder and Jeno grins back at him, breathless and giddy with this irrational feeling of joy in his chest. It’s what Jaemin does to him, he figures. Gives him more life than he knows what to do with, a future bigger than he ever thought he’d get to have.

A mere village boy, blessed by the greatest adventure of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man i cant believe we're almost at the end im so 😭   
> as always, thanks for reading! if you liked this pls consider leaving a comment <3  
> 
> 
> find me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ki_jaemjen)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ki_jaemin)


	13. London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> INC ✈ LHR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs:  
> the fighter – gym class heroes  
> waking up slow – gabrielle aplin (piano ver)  
> strange attractor - animal kingdom  
> truce – twenty one pilots  
> darling/one four three – chase your words  
> lover – truslow

_“If ever I was running, it was towards you.” – Jennifer Elisabeth_

Jaemin’s parents are a pair of short, formal looking people, waiting at the arrival area dressed in a suit and a grey dress respectively. Jeno feels anxiety numb his hands, tries to fix his posture and not seem like the awkward countryside boy he is, but then Jaemin’s mother spots them and her face breaks into a smile of such luminance that Jeno suddenly understands where Jaemin got his brightness from.

“There you are, boys!” she exclaims, waving excitedly before she pulls Jaemin into a tight hug.

Jaemin embraces both his parents and kisses his mum on the cheek before he pulls back and nudges Jeno forward a little. Jeno extends his hand but Jaemin’s mum already pulls him into an embrace.

“It’s good to finally meet you, Jeno,” she says. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” Jeno replies genuinely. They exchange more niceties on the way to the car and then get on the way to Jaemin’s house. London seems chaotic as far as Jeno can tell, at least when it comes to transportation, and it takes a good while to navigate out of the streets and the stop-and-go traffic.

The house the Nas live in is at the outskirts of London where the streets are less crowded and the yards more spacious. It’s a nice building – big, two storeys high, with a clean front yard. There are flowers next to the doorstep and Jeno thinks of home and the beginning and how far they’ve all come.

Inside, Jeno can see how Jaemin might have had the money for all his travels. The foyer is spacious, giving way to a staircase and three doors leading away. Jeno leaves his shoes by the door along with everyone else and puts on the house slippers Jaemin’s father offers him before he follows them through one of the doors into the open concept living area.

It feels a little like stepping into an IKEA catalogue. There’s a glass front opening the view to an accurate, almost sterile garden; the couch elements and pillows are so perfectly arranged Jeno is already worried about how to sit on them and the interior décor is tasteful, all kept in warm browns and beiges and greys. Jeno sees a few family pictures, even one photo of Jaemin at what must be his high school graduation, but otherwise everything is impersonal, as if designed for guests. Jeno wonders if that made it easier to leave for Jaemin, easier to detach himself from this already dry environment, or if maybe Jeno’s judging too quickly.

“You must be terribly exhausted,” Jaemin’s mum says as she’s leading them to the open kitchen space (grey granite work surfaces, cupboards matching the colours in the living room, one potted plant on the isle). “Would you like something to drink before resting?”

“Uh… a glass of water would be nice,” Jeno says awkwardly. He feels Jaemin’s hand resting on his back and breathes easier for it; it’s difficult to be here, difficult to take it all in – that this is where Jaemin grew up and where he came to be who he is.

“So humble,” Jaemin’s father says quietly.

“There’s water upstairs,” Jaemin says when his mum reaches for the fridge. “I think Jeno’s pretty tired from the flights, so I’ll go show him his room and stuff, if that’s alright.”

Jeno tries to watch the exchange attentively. Jaemin is so different here – so polite, almost stiff, as if these are distant relatives and not his parents. But, in a way, Jaemin has been pretty distant from them, Jeno figures.

“Alright,” Mrs Na says. “Dinner is at around seven, I’ll call you when it’s done.”

Jeno thanks them and then follows Jaemin out of the room. As soon as they’re out of sight, Jaemin threads his fingers between Jeno’s and pulls him closer. “I told them not to be overbearing.”

“They’re really nice,” Jeno says. Jaemin pulls him up the stairs. “But what did they mean with ‘my room’?”

“They probably prepared the guest bedroom for you. You can sleep in there if you want.” Jaemin turns around a little to look at Jeno. “But I was hoping you’d have had enough of the distance and sleep in my bed instead.”

Jeno tries not to blush. “I’d rather do that, yeah.”

“Good.”

On the second floor, Jaemin pushes open the door to the left and Jeno follows him into what must be his room. Upon seeing the king-sized bed the exhaustion barrels into Jeno’s bones like a derailed train and he just steps forward and lets himself fall onto the soft comforter.

Jaemin snorts and sits down next to him. “Tired, huh?”

“Understatement,” Jeno mumbles into the fabric and shuffles around until he finds a more comfortable position. “Come here?”

“Alright.”

Jaemin rearranges the pillows until he can lean against them and Jeno crawls up the bed to rest his head on Jaemin’s lap.

“They didn’t touch anything while I was gone,” Jaemin says, looking around. “They left everything the way it was.”

Looking at Jaemin’s room is kind of like looking at a different version of the Jaemin Jeno knows. There are things he recognises, like the maps and souvenirs and accessories and too many clothes but there are things Jeno didn’t know Jaemin was interested in. Concert tickets are taped to the wall. Detective comics on the shelf. Medals and trophies from sports competitions. It’s the parts of his life that Jaemin doesn’t talk about much, the life he lived before, the one he tried so hard to leave behind.

“Would you change anything about it now?” Jeno asks.

“I’d change everything.”

“So why don’t you?”

Jaemin looks at Jeno and he knows what Jaemin’s going to say before he does. “Because I’m not staying for long.”

 _Will you say the same thing about wherever you’re headed next_ , Jeno doesn’t ask. He’s too scared of the answer, too scared that Jaemin didn’t mean it after all when he said he wanted to stay with Jeno.

“You should sleep a little,” Jaemin says. “Should I wake you for dinner or do you just wanna sleep through it?”

“Please wake me,” Jeno says and forces himself to look up. Jaemin’s smiling at him so fondly it aches in his chest. Maybe if Jeno wasn’t so delirious he’d ask him to kiss him, but he falls asleep with Jaemin’s fingers carding through his hair, his body warmth familiar, comforting, almost protective.

Dinner is good, some kind of fish with rice and some salad. Even though Jeno feels like a zombie, he tries his best to answer Jaemin’s parents’ questions. They’re really nice, Jeno thinks. Mrs Na is talkative and professional, like she is used to handling guests. In comparison, Mr Na is quieter but kind and when Jeno tells him about his own father’s woodwork he’s genuinely interested and asks Jeno to show him pictures.

By now Jeno has stopped feeling so out of place. It’s even easier when Jaemin’s right there, glancing at him as if to check if he’s alright, tapping his toe against Jeno’s socked feet in silent question. All Jeno can do is smile at him.

Afterwards, Jeno insists on helping with the dishes and while Jaemin is talking to his father, Jaemin’s mum approaches him with a soft smile.

“Jeno,” she says. “Can I have a word?”

Jeno immediately starts sweating, his mind going into overdrive trying to figure out what he did wrong. “Um, yes, of course.”

She smiles wider. Jeno gets another glimpse of the similarity to Jaemin, the perfect teeth, the sincerity. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. I’d just like to thank you.”

“For what?”

She spreads her arms out, asking for a hug, and Jeno blinks before hesitantly stepping into it. She’s about a head shorter than he is but Jeno knows mothers are the strongest kind of people.

“For bringing my son back home,” she says into his shoulder. In her voice, Jeno hears the gratitude and ache of a mother who thought she’d never see her child again and Jeno wonders just how hard it must have been for her – watching Jaemin leave, never hearing from him, being left in a house that’s suddenly empty of one more person. Jaemin is an only child and that makes the thought even worse.

Jeno hesitates. Should he tell her that Jaemin is thinking about leaving again? A part of that is so cruel and no matter how much Jeno wants Jaemin to be with him it feels like too much to ask for. Too much to take.

“I know,” she says then. “I know he wants to be with you. And I’m glad for it because I’d rather know he’s with someone he loves than know he’s out there in the world, searching, all by himself.”

Jeno pulls back and looks at her. Her dark eyes are fierce but watery and Jeno lets his shoulders sink a little. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For making him want to leave again.”

She shakes her head and frames Jeno’s face in her hands. They’re less callous than his own mother’s but they have a similar warmth, a similar comfort. “Don’t be sorry. He seemed so lost before he left, you see? He doesn’t anymore. It’s how I know it’s serious. When he came back you were all he wanted to talk about. How was America, I asked. What was it like to be in so many different countries?” She laughs. “And then he’d tell me about how you’d looked when you saw the ocean for the first time. How you got lost at a market and how you made him call his friends.”

Jeno feels like he’s about to cry. Maybe it’s the jetlag that makes her words hit home or maybe it’s the fact that people can tell they belong together, making it truer somehow.

“Thank you so much for saying this,” Jeno says. “I can see where Jaemin got his kindness from.”

She smiles and waves him off. “I’ll let you go now. Goodnight, Jeno. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here.”

“Goodnight, Mrs Na.”

“Please,” she says, “no need for these formalities, Jeno. You’re family now.”

“Your mum is very kind,” Jeno says after they’ve both brushed their teeth and gotten comfy in Jaemin’s huge bed, snuggled against each other. Early autumn doesn’t appear to be very warm or humid in the UK, so Jaemin’s body heat feels just right. Though, Jeno thinks, he wouldn’t let go of Jaemin no matter how hot it was.

Jaemin gives him a wry smile. “You’re wondering why I left, aren’t you? Because it’s all so perfect here.”

“I just thought your reasons would be more… visible.” Jeno shrugs. “Please tell me this secret.”

“It’s not really a secret,” Jaemin says quietly. “I couldn’t find the freedom I needed. I couldn’t find a way to feel like I belonged here. Or anywhere. So I had to leave. It gripped me like a fever and I just – needed space to breathe.”

“Is that really everything?”

It feels like all of Jaemin’s secrets have led up to this one, this reveal. The truth down to the bone, why Jaemin is the way he is. Why he hides and avoids and distracts. Why he always has to leave everything behind.

“Have you really been seeking,” Jeno asks, “or have you just been running away?”

Jaemin’s quiet for a long moment. Jeno can hear the rise and fall of his breathing and the soft shifting of the bed sheets where Jaemin is fumbling with them.

“I don’t know, Jeno,” Jaemin says eventually. “If I had the answer I would’ve stopped searching. All I know is that I want to be with you. Maybe _you_ are the answer.”

Jeno has so many questions. _Is that going to be enough for you? What if I can’t give you a home either? What if it won’t make you happy? Will you leave again?_

But Jaemin leans over to kiss Jeno, gentle and slow and dizzying, before he pulls back to look at him. The orange glow of his nightstand lamp illuminates his pensive expression and Jeno lets his fingertips trail over the edge of his jaw.

“Even if I stay in only one place?” Jeno asks. “For the rest of my life?”

Jaemin turns his face a little to kiss the centre of Jeno’s palm, eyelashes casting shadows over his cheekbones. “Even then.”

Jeno wakes up in the middle of the night with no concept of time, wrapped up in Jaemin’s arms. Jeno feels his breath on his nape and burrows further into his warmth. Tomorrow he’ll confront Jaemin about the future. He’ll ask these questions. They’ve been running away from it for too long and Jeno couldn’t live with himself if he trapped Jaemin somewhere. He loves him too much to do that. And sometimes – sometimes you don’t get to keep the things you love the most. Isn’t that what they were supposed to learn?

You cannot make homes out of people. People leave and people change and people grow.

But Jeno wants to make a home _with_ Jaemin. Wants to _feel like_ home to him. It’s a lot to ask for, perhaps too much, and perhaps there’s no way this will work out but right now Jeno thinks he’s willing to try.

They’ve done so much for each other. What’s a little more?

Jeno squeezes his eyes shut, tries to breathe through the wave of emotions. It takes him a long while to fall back asleep but just lying here pressed against Jaemin is the best he can have.

“I’m taking you out on a date today,” Jaemin says after breakfast when they’re lazing around on the beautiful couches in the living room. Both of Jaemin’s parents have already left for work and Jeno still feels a little delirious from jet lag. “We’re going to the – in my opinion – best milkshake place there is.”

“You don’t even like milk,” Jeno reminds him with a raised eyebrow but Jaemin waves him off.

“Yes, but these shakes are special. Let’s get ready.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“They also have really good sweet potato fries.”

“Can we go see the London Eye, too?” Jeno asks. “We don’t have to get on, I just want to see it.”

Jaemin nods. “Sure. Anything you want.”

The London Underground is less clean, less _new_ than Seoul’s but Jeno finds enough similarities in the processes to not feel too lost. He also has Jaemin, who moves through it all with the ease of someone who’s done this since forever. Jaemin navigates them to a shopping centre and to a diner that’s very clearly inspired by American vibes – red booths, small tables, high stools at a breakfast bar. The whole room already smells like frying oil and syrup. Jeno orders a vanilla milkshake after Jaemin’s recommendation which is served in a metal jug and Jaemin watches him try it with expectant eyes.

“It’s _good_ ,” Jeno eventually evaluates. It really is – creamy and sweet but not overly so and the punch of vanilla feels more intense than any other milkshake or ice cream Jeno’s tried. Jaemin pushes his chocolate shake over to Jeno to make him try that and it’s amazing, too.

Their food arrives not much later – spare ribs and a beef burger and sweet potato fries to share. It reminds Jeno so much of their travels, when they went into random restaurants in search for food and tried new dishes and familiar dishes and got the recommended desserts even though they were too full. For Jeno everything is new here and it’s strange to think about how Jaemin grew up in this environment. How he knows every single dish on the menu, except those they added in the year he was gone. (Jaemin is very sad to see they’ve taken the pancakes off the menu.)

“I used to come here a lot,” Jaemin tells him, trying to dip a fry into Jeno’s shake. “They have good student discounts and my friends really liked this place, too.”

“Have you seen any of them?” Jeno asks.

Jaemin shrugs. “I’ve hung out with Jaehyun and some former course mates. It was nice.”

“But?”

“There’s no but.”

“Don’t lie.”

Jeno glances up through his eyelashes. “I’m not lying.”

“We should talk about the future, Jaemin,” Jeno says then. “And we should be realistic about it.”

He isn’t sure where the courage comes from. Maybe it’s because in a few days he’s flying back home and Jaemin can’t come with him and all he has is the promise of a shared future and nothing else. It’s easy to say – _I’ll stay with you forever_. But the reality is that parts of that are difficult, require sacrifices and more thought. More money. More planning. It’s not just wishful words magically coming true.

It means committing to something and neither of them is especially good at that.

Jaemin slants another look at him and Jeno thinks he can see fear in his eyes. Somehow it makes Jeno feel calmer knowing that this isn’t easy for Jaemin, either. That they’re both worried. It means they both care.

“Now?” Jaemin asks.

“Why not? If we keep pushing it we’ll just avoid it forever and we can’t,” Jeno says.

“Alright,” Jaemin sighs and folds his hands on top of the table. “Let’s talk about the future.”

“If it weren’t for me, would you even consider settling down?” Jeno asks.

Jaemin shrugs. “How would I know?”

“So how do you know if moving to Korea would be the right decision?”

“Because I’d choose you over everything,” Jaemin says. “No journey could fill the emptiness leaving you would cause.”

“That’s – be _serious_ for a moment.”

“I _am_ serious.”

Jeno crosses his arms. “Are you really? How can you be sure if you’ve spent months telling me about how you don’t have a home? How you’re so uprooted? I need you to be honest with me but more importantly I need you to be honest with yourself.”

Jaemin huffs, pissed off, but so is Jeno. As nice as Jaemin’s evasive answers are, Jeno is getting tired of them. Of Jaemin always spilling secrets except the ones that count. Jeno’s trying so hard right now to be responsible, to talk like an adult, to treat this less like a dream and more like reality but Jaemin is making it so difficult.

“Jeno, this is as true as it gets,” Jaemin gives back. “Sometimes there is no reason and things just happen. I’m not uprooted; I never _had_ roots.”

“Everyone has roots. Everyone starts out somewhere. Your parents –”

“I don’t _care_ about my parents. I mean –”

“ _Jaemin_.”

Jaemin snorts. “I’m not a family person, you know that. I love them but they’re suffocating, so I went out to see the world. That’s all. That’s as true as it gets.”

“Then – why are you here? If you’re not a family person and not a person who stays in one place, then why did you come back? Why do you want to settle suddenly? With me, out of all people? I can’t ask you to stay, not when I know you’re going to leave me and I don’t want to tie you down, I could never do that to you –”

“Jeno,” Jaemin says, softly now, and reaches across the small table to grip Jeno’s hands. Jeno can feel his thumbs brushing over his knuckles, like a gentle breeze. “Jeno, I won’t leave you. I couldn’t and I don’t want to and I won’t unless you explicitly send me away.”

“Maybe you think that now,” Jeno says, blinking away the sudden surprise of tears. “But you’re a fly-away person. You said it yourself. What if you fly away from _me_?”

Jaemin sighs. “Let me rephrase it. And I promise you, this is one hundred per cent the truth. Not a secret, or pretty words, just truth. I need you to believe me. Okay? I love you. When I left home I didn’t know where I would end up or when I’d go back or _if_ I’d go back. And then I met you and things started – falling into place, I guess.

“It wasn’t a place I was seeking; it was _you_. Or maybe I wasn’t seeking at all and this is all just a coincidence and for once the world isn’t cruel and just – everything makes _sense_ with you. I’ve thought about this, alright? When I’m with you I feel like I can stop running and I’ve never felt that before. I love you for that and everything that you are. If you think there is a version of your future that fits me in it then that’s all I could ever ask for.”

Jeno has to swallow his feelings down before he can speak. “But – but how _exactly_ is this going to work? Where will the money come from – what if this is just the honeymoon phase –”

“Are you doubting us?” Jaemin leans back a little, worrying at his bottom lip. “What do _you_ want, Jeno? What’s _your_ plan for the future? Because if you want something else, if you don’t want to keep this going then I’ll – accept that.”

“Of course I want to keep this,” Jeno says immediately. “More than anything. But I need you to be one hundred per cent sure that you’re not doing something you’ll regret later just because you feel like doing this right now.”

“Well, I _am_ sure. One hundred per cent. It would be so stupid of me to let you go.” Jaemin sighs. “Maybe I can finish my education at Hyuck’s uni and I’ll be just an hour away, so I’ll come visit you every weekend and take you on dates and help your dad with woodwork and live a simple, happy life with you until we’re old and wrinkly.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

Jaemin shrugs. “I know it won’t be. It might take a while and we’ll fight and say hurtful things and we’ll be stressed and broke and annoying but at the end of the day it’s going to be worth it. I believe in that. Do you?”

It feels like a test. All this time Jeno has been questioning Jaemin’s ability to commit only to find that he isn’t the problem, but Jeno is. Jaemin believes in dreams as if they were already reality and Jeno can’t do that. “I want to.”

“That’s good enough for now, I guess.”

“What if,” Jeno starts carefully. “What if I wanted to come live with you then? In the city?”

Jaemin stares at him. “Isn’t that a little crazy? Moving in with me right away?”

“You know what’s crazy? Moving to a different country for someone you haven’t even known for a year.”

“You’ve made a point there.”

“I think moving to the city for a while will be good for me. We could also split costs for an apartment,” Jeno says. “Maybe I should go to uni after all. Do you think engineering would suit me?”

“Engineering was made for you,” Jaemin tells him.

Jeno laughs and gets up to sit in the booth next to Jaemin and Jaemin immediately slides his arm around him. It reminds Jeno of sitting in the Berlin café, so close to saying goodbye. Now they’re so close to a new beginning, so much closer to a reality where there’s always only going to be hellos.

Just this – being so close to each other is already enough truth for Jeno. The one truth that matters because nothing else ever felt that right. Maybe there is no answer to the question why Jaemin left, or maybe it doesn’t matter because along the way Jaemin has found the answer to a different question instead.

“And you’re sure you want to live in South Korea?” Jeno asks. “You know it’s a pretty conservative country, right? And it’s – it’s just different and we couldn’t be open about –”

“I want to. I _am_ Korean. Isn’t this going back to my roots?” Jaemin grins. “I’m in it for the long run and with the long run I mean the rest of my life – I know that sounds dramatic but I’m pretty sure I won’t have it better, Jen.”

Maybe the universe is kind after all. Maybe it’s the string of fate, glittering and curling like a physical ray of sunlight, indestructible.

“Is this really happening?” Jeno asks.

“We’re going to make it happen. I love you, Jeno,” Jaemin says and leans his head against Jeno’s. “I can’t wait for the future if it’s with you.”

Somehow they can’t keep their hands off of each other on the way back to the house. It’s still bright outside and they haven’t even seen the London Eye yet but Jeno is itching to have Jaemin to himself, to be able to kiss him the way he’s wanted to ever since their conversation at the diner. He just needs to be _closer_ , always closer, needs to feel Jaemin in every way possible and he’s waited long enough. He’s waited forever.

Jaemin seems to feel the same way, though. His hands are hot on Jeno’s waist, his chest firm against his back and shoulder, and as soon as he gets the front door closed behind them he presses Jeno up against it.

“Your parents,” Jeno says before Jaemin can kiss him but Jaemin smiles and shakes his head.

“Aren’t home yet. Won’t be for a while.”

That does it for Jeno’s self-control. He surges forward and Jaemin meets him to kiss him hard, to kiss him senseless, to push against him until Jeno feels like there’s nothing else but Jaemin in this world. Somehow they make it up the stairs and into Jaemin’s room, tumbling onto the bed already wrapped up in each other.

Jeno used to think kissing Jaemin was a risk. That every time he did it was a hazard, an investment, something to lose or regret, something he’d have to pay for one day.

But it was never a risk. Loving Jaemin was never a risk; it was always fate. It was something beyond his control and he can only give in to it now, when it’s so all consuming.

Kissing Jaemin now is different. It’s making up for lost time, closing the distance of thousands of miles that have been between them for too long, every lost second spent apart from each other.

Jeno opens his mouth and lets Jaemin lick against his tongue, the weight of his body on top of his own pressing him into the mattress. It’s messy and desperate and it feels exactly how it should because that’s what it’s like to have missed someone. To have missed Jaemin. There was a point where Jeno thought he’d never get to have Jaemin this close, would never get to slip his hands under his shirt or feel his teeth nip at his bottom lip or see the spark in Jaemin’s eyes when he looks at him like this.

Jeno feels heavy with need and pulls Jaemin closer, impatient fingers tugging at his clothes. Jaemin leans back and discards his shirt in one swift motion, helping Jeno do the same. Jeno sighs contently when he feels Jaemin’s smooth skin under his palms, hot to the touch, sweaty between his shoulder blades. Jeno digs his fingernails into his back and Jaemin’s breath catches.

“Jen…”

“Hm?”

Jaemin’s eyes are warm and hopeful in the half dark, his hand resting on the buckle of Jeno’s belt. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Jeno says, feeling hot. “I trust you.”

Jaemin smiles and leans down to kiss him again.

Jeno closes his eyes. His body shivers when he feels Jaemin press his lips against his jugular, open-mouthed and hot, sliding over his skin. He wanders, like his hands that trail from Jeno’s chest over his stomach to the waistband of his jeans. Jeno lifts his hips, making it easier for Jaemin to pull his the rest of clothes off.

Jaemin takes his time. One moment he’s hovering above Jeno, kneeling between his legs with his hands on Jeno’s hips, another moment he’s kissing Jeno deep and slow, chests pressed together. Jeno feels like he’s losing his breath as soon as he takes it, like he’s on fire where Jaemin touches him, where he touches Jaemin.

And Jaemin is so beautiful, how the sweat makes his hair stick darkly to his forehead before Jeno pushes it out of his eyes, the way he bites his bottom lip to suppress a noise, how he shivers whenever Jeno’s hand slides over his chest. His laughter is tinkling when he huffs it against Jeno’s mouth, infecting Jeno until they’re both giggling, hands tangled in each other’s hair.

This is what trust is, Jeno thinks. What love is. Handing yourself over to someone, spreading yourself out, with all your flaws and secrets. Jeno reaches out to touch the mole right under Jaemin’s armpit, runs his thumb over a scar on his elbow. There’s no shame here, not even when Jaemin presses his lips to his most private places, not when Jeno’s hands explore all those parts of Jaemin no one else usually gets to see.

None of them has to say it out loud for the other to feel it but Jaemin does anyway, because that’s who he is.

“I love you,” he whispers when Jeno cranes his head back, losing himself in the electric pleasure of having Jaemin’s hands on his body. “I love you.”

Jeno loves him, too, in ways he didn’t know were possible.

“Please,” Jeno breathes out, even though he doesn’t know anymore what he’s pleading for. “Please, Jaemin…”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Anything.”

“Alright,” Jaemin says and kisses him again, his hand travelling down Jeno’s abdomen. “Let me take care of you.”

Afterwards, Jaemin runs them a bubble bath in the huge tub, a luxury Jeno’s never had before. Jeno feels boneless and giddy when he sinks into the hot water and he makes Jaemin sit in front of him so he can wash his hair, massaging conditioner into his scalp and cleaning the suds off of his shoulders. There’s something so vulnerable and simple about this, about being so bare and close and trusting. Jeno wants to be this close to Jaemin always, wants to touch him and feel him and exist in his space, wants to orbit him as long as Jaemin lets him.

Jeno leans his forehead against Jaemin’s back and pulls Jaemin against him again. By now the water is only lukewarm, sloshing softly when Jaemin twists in Jeno’s arms to look at him.

“Are you happy, Jeno?” he asks. Below the surface, Jaemin’s hand finds Jeno’s. Their fingertips must be prunes by now but Jeno doesn’t care.

“Yeah,” Jeno replies. “The happiest.”

Jaemin smiles his sunrise smile, the one that’s so blinding, the one Jeno’s been a little bit in love with ever since he first saw it, the smile that started it all those months ago.

“Did you know,” Jeno says, “that having a mole on your feet means you’re going to be a traveller?”

Jaemin raises his eyebrows. “Does it? I have one.”

“I know you do.”

They’re quiet for a drawn-out moment, just thinking.

“We’ve come such a long way,” Jeno says quietly. “Don’t you think?”

He doesn’t just mean the miles and the trips. He means the way they’ve changed – the way they’ve had to grow up and make decisions, had to figure out what they wanted and how to be realistic. Jeno isn’t the village boy anymore whose life consisted of tending to the shop and whose biggest dream was taking over his mum’s online business.

It must be similar for Jaemin. He’s not the restless seeker anymore. Not the boy who kept running away from everything he knew.

Jaemin nods. “We have. Wanna hear a secret?”

“Always.”

“Sometimes I think I fell in love with you the second I met you.”

Jeno’s heart nearly beats out of his chest. Jaemin must feel it where Jeno is pressed against his shoulder, strong and hot and alive. “Sometimes I think that, too.”

“Ugh, we’re so grossly in love.” Jaemin snorts. “Come on, the water’s getting cold.”

A day later, Jaemin takes Jeno to see the London Eye, insisting to buy tickets. It’s huge, a gigantic wheel in the city centre and the gondolas are bigger than Jeno thought they would be. They share one with a bunch of other tourists when they slowly ascend, the view opening up to the river and the skyline of central London and beyond.

It’s beautiful. Jeno takes a few pictures and then puts his phone away to watch the people down below, tiny like ants. Jaemin is grinning at him when Jeno looks up, as if Jeno’s the only sight worth watching.

“So what do you wanna eat?” Jaemin asks when they’re back on the ground. Jeno still feels stunned and weightless. “I know a good place at Chinatown or – oh.”

Jaemin stops short, staring at his phone.

“What is it?” Jeno asks.

Jaemin turns around to look at Jeno. “Renjun just send me an email.”

“Renjun? The bracelet dude? Also, an _email_?” Jeno asks.

Jaemin nods. “He probably doesn’t have my number anymore.”

“Well, what’s he saying?”

“He said he heard from Jaehyun that I’m back, so he’s asking if I wanna hang out and catch up.”

“Oh. Well, do you want to?”

“I don’t know.”

Jeno knows Jaemin is about to decline. He can understand why; for Jaemin this is over and it’s taken long enough to close this chapter, but Jeno grabs Jaemin’s hand before he can say anything.

“It’s okay to reconnect, you know?” Jeno says. “You’ve _both_ changed. He has to relearn you, too, and maybe you can go back to being friends. If you want that. And if it doesn’t work out then, well. It’s not like you’re staying here.”

“You really are the better half of me.” Jaemin kisses Jeno on the nose. “Would you want to come with me?”

“If you want me there, sure. But shouldn’t you talk to him by yourself first?”

“And what will you be doing?”

“I can entertain myself.”

Jaemin exhales slowly. “But join me later, okay?”

“Sure.”

Renjun seems to be quite keen on that meet-up since he agrees to hang out the next day. Jaemin frets about it a little, obviously unsure of whether this was the right decision but Jeno tries his best to soothe him. By the time they’re standing outside of the café they’ve agreed to meet in, Jaemin looks like he’s about to run away.

“How are you feeling?” Jeno asks and stops Jaemin with a hand on his shoulder.

Jaemin sighs. “Weird. It’s like I know him but not really. It’s been so long.”

“Let’s see how it goes. You can text me SOS if you want me to get you out or something.”

“Okay. Before I go in, I have a question,” Jaemin says and bites his bottom lip. “Can I introduce you as my boyfriend? As in, do you wanna be official?”

“Yeah, I want – I want to be your boyfriend,” Jeno says, cheeks hot. Jaemin smiles and kisses him briefly and Jeno wonders if his stomach will ever stop flipping like this.

“Alright. I’ll text you when you can join us, so don’t wander too far,” Jaemin says. When Jeno nods he pushes open the door and vanishes inside the café.

The situation reminds Jeno of Dubai, when he’d made Jaemin call Jaehyun. It’s a little worrying how easily Jaemin lets himself slip away from people as if never to be seen again, but he’d also been the first to say he didn’t want this life without Jeno in it. It feels good to be a priority, Jeno thinks.

He spends some time exploring the stores of the pedestrian zone and buys souvenirs for his parents and sister in a little tourist shop. It’s warmer today than usual and Jeno regrets wearing a hoodie. He’s thinking about buying a shirt somewhere when his phone vibrates. It’s Jaemin, telling him to come back, so Jeno abandons the stores.

The café isn’t particularly crowded, so Jeno spots Jaemin easily where he’s sitting opposite of a dark-haired boy.

“Hey,” he says when he arrives at their table and sinks into the chair next to Jaemin.

“Hi,” Jaemin says, immediately resting his hand on Jeno’s thigh under the table as if making sure he’ll stay there. “Jeno, this is Renjun. Renjun, this is Jeno, my boyfriend.”

Jeno feels like his face is about to burn off his skull – it feels strange to tell people so blatantly. Not that Jeno’s complaining.

“Nice to meet you,” Renjun says with a sharp smile. He is shorter and slighter than Jaemin and he looks friendly enough, but there’s something evaluating in his gaze, something accessing, like he’s trying to make sense of their connection for himself.

“Jaemin told me how you met and all,” Renjun says. “Not gonna lie, I nearly cried, that’s just so damn cute.”

Jeno isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say. Thank you? “Yeah, well. Not a lot of people took it seriously at first.”

“I can imagine.”

“Jaemin said you have a boyfriend as well. How did you meet him?” Jeno asks.

Renjun laughs. “At a party of a mutual friend. It was much less romantic, really.”

“Where is he?” Jaemin throws in. “You could’ve brought him, you know.”

“We’re, uh… on a break. So it’s just me.” Renjun smiles, ignoring the uncomfortable atmosphere. “Should we order some cake?”

Half an hour later the atmosphere is less tense and awkward, giving space to pointed jokes and a lot of reminiscing. Jeno learns a lot about Jaemin’s high school and university life, which seemed to have been pretty fun, but he also learns who Renjun is.

Renjun may look slight and sweet but he has the same sharpness about his person that Hyuck possesses. Jeno thinks they would be a terrifying duo and makes a mental note to never introduce them to each other or else all hell may break loose.

“Well, it was good to see you guys,” Renjun says after they’ve paid. “Let’s keep in touch?”

“Sure,” Jaemin replies easily. “Maybe we can repeat this some time.”

They say their goodbyes and then Jaemin and Jeno get on their way, sauntering down the pedestrian zone.

“Any regrets?” Jeno asks, threading their fingers together.

“None,” Jaemin replies. “Wanna go see the river?”

The Thames might not be the most beautiful river Jeno has ever seen but the low sun makes everything seem more magical, covering the buildings and bridges with a thin film of off-gold. The light glitters on the surface of the water and Jeno watches a group of ducks at the shore, gliding into the gentle waves one by one.

They keep holding each other’s hand as they follow the path that stays parallel to the river bank, silent, content, and Jeno falls a little bit in love with this moment. It’s the simplest thing and yet it’s not, because he didn’t expect to be able to call it his. To call _Jaemin_ his. And now there’s a future, this unknown length of time, a promise of forever he never even allowed himself to dream about.

“I was really scared of meeting Renjun again,” Jaemin says quietly, breaking the silence. “It took me so long to get over it, so I was worried seeing him would bring that back. It’s not a nice feeling to be so easily replaced. But I also thought it might remind me of everything I was before. Everything I didn’t want to be. And that it would somehow change me back into that person.”

“Well, did it?”

“No. In a way, it was nice to see him. It’s like… now I have new memories of him. A better picture. He apologised, you know. I didn’t think I needed him to say it until he did.”

“I’m glad it went so well,” Jeno replies. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Jaemin glances at him. “Sure.”

“I think I get it now. How it felt when you wanted to leave.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Because when I came back home and thought I wouldn’t see you again, I felt like I was going insane. Like there was a piece of me missing. Something irreplaceable.”

“Oh.” Jaemin squeezes Jeno’s hand. “Good thing we both have that missing piece now, huh?”

“Yeah.”

They just stand there for a moment, looking at each other. Sometimes Jeno thinks he could do that forever and never get tired of the way Jaemin smiles.

“If you could freeze one moment from the entire time we’ve known each other, which would it be?” Jeno asks.

Jaemin smiles and his hands come up to frame Jeno’s hands, warm skin on warm skin.

“This,” he says and kisses Jeno.

They choose to spend the rest of the days researching – what’s the process when someone wants to move to South Korea, which papers are necessary, which universities offer courses they both like, how much money would they need. There are so many questions to be answered, so many documents to be filled out, so many people to be spoken to.

This is only the beginning of it all and as much as it already overwhelms Jeno, it’s nice to make that start. Jaemin seems so ready for this and it eases Jeno’s constant worries.

Jaemin talks to his parents about it, too. His mum cries and won’t stop hugging him for the rest of the evening but they both seem supportive.

“We want you to be happy,” Mr Na says. “And we’re glad that you’ve made a decision.”

“I always thought if he can’t find a home here with us, he should find it somewhere out there,” Mrs Na says, gesturing over to Jaemin who’s watching her with red-rimmed eyes. “I was worried he’d never find it, you know? That he’d never settle. You both are still so young and you have so much room to grow and find out what you want but it’s so much easier to sleep now that I know he has you to come home to.”

“Thank you so much,” Jeno replies honestly, choking up. He can’t express just how grateful he is for their support, knowing how many other people would disown them for even liking each other. There are many things to appreciate and Jeno will make sure to give something back to them, in whichever form that might be.

Saying goodbye is hard. Jeno thinks it’s always going to be hard, even if it’s just for a few months. Jaemin won’t stop hugging him, keeps pulling Jeno back against him again and again, and Jeno lets him because he doesn’t have the strength to stop.

“I’m going to miss my flight,” Jeno says eventually.

“Oh no, what a shame,” Jaemin gives back. “I guess you’ll have to stay longer.”

Jeno snorts. “It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”

“Alright.” Jaemin sighs dramatically. “Call me when you get home?”

Jeno nods and leans in to kiss Jaemin one more time. He’s going to miss that in Korea, being this open about their relationship, but there must be sacrifices.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Jaemin says when Jeno steps back. “Safe travels, okay?”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

They wave at each other until Jeno can’t see Jaemin anymore. His heart feels heavy and empty, but not as much as it used to. At the end of the day he’s going to be with Jaemin, is going to wake up next to him every single day, and if he has to wait a little bit until he gets that, he will wait.

Jaemin has always been worth that. Has been worth everything. Jaemin and his nuclear smile, Jaemin with his nomad heart that found a permanent place in Jeno’s gentle hands.

Jaemin, who loves fiercely, who looks at everything in the world like it’s a secret to be shared.

You only meet someone like that once, Jeno thinks. He’s only twenty-one and he’s already found this someone. He’s so lucky, really. What are the chances that the one stranger to come to your little village would turn out to be exactly the person you need?

Perhaps that’s just life – taking chances. Maybe the string of fate cannot be cut. Or maybe it was never there to begin with – Jeno doesn’t think it matters anymore. He’ll thank the universe for giving him Jaemin whether or not there’s someone who listens.

He’ll shout it out into the world: _out there somewhere, someone is looking for you without knowing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to dee for telling me about the mole meaning!
> 
> this is almost it my dudes ;;__;; I'm not sure if i can finish the epilogue within a week and it probably wont be that long either but i will try to have it done and up soon! it's just difficult to find some final words when this story has taken me so long and i don't really want it to be over :(  
> thanks to everyone who's recommended songs, shared their own travel stories with me and/or left comments ;_; it really means so so much to me.
> 
> i hope you've enjoyed this journey as much as i have up until now. if you did pls let me know in the comments or cc <3
> 
>   
> talk to me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ki_jaemjen)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ki_jaemin)


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where the journey ends and another begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs:  
> gold dust – johnathan jeremiah  
> she is the sunlight – trading yesterday  
> back to you - blair  
> our corner of the universe – k. s. rhoads  
>   
>   
> sorry this took so long! i hope you're ready for some domestic fluff.  
> 

_“You have come such a long way. Please rest.” – Seeker_

In quantum physics, the entanglement of particles describes a relationship between their fundamental properties that can’t have happened by chance. The quantum state of each particle cannot be described independently of the state of others, even when the particles are separated by a large distance – knowing something about one of the characteristics of one particle immediately tells you something about the same characteristics of the other. It’s direct correlation. It’s like having one glove and automatically knowing that the other will fit on the other hand without ever having to measure it.

It’s like knowing there’s someone on the other side of the world who loves you without you having to be there.

Jeno calls it the science behind soulmates. Maybe it doesn’t check out like that but he believes in it nonetheless. He can feel it every time he looks at Jaemin – the connection. The entanglement. Maybe the particles that make them up truly share the same properties, are connected to each other, fated to affect each other across all distances. Maybe it’s just Jeno’s unshakable belief in the fact that they belong together. After all, the power of the mind has healed people that have been labelled terminally ill by western medicine.

Jeno knows it hasn’t been long; maybe it’s a naïve way of thinking. Call him a believer. Call him a dreamer. His heart is a compass needle leading him to Jaemin. He believes in fate and the tangle of threads that all humans are made of, their lifelines and limits and time lines.

His and Jaemin’s have been interwoven since the beginning of time. It wasn’t a coincidence that Jeno was the only person watering flowers that afternoon; it wasn’t a coincidence that Jaemin chose this village out of all of them; it was direct correlation.

Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe none of it matters. At the end of the day, they’re right here, despite everything. No one else really believed in them. At times, Jeno didn’t want to believe it, either, but they made it.

It took them over a year to get where they are now but they have made it. 

Now there is a tiny flat on the eleventh floor of an apartment block, between the city centre and the university campus.

The kitchen is barely wide enough to fit the two of them and the pots and pans hang from the ceiling to save space and simultaneously make cooking a hazard. The fridge is decorated with magnets from various countries – a red maple leaf, the Burj Khalifa, a sticker of the Garda Lake, among many. A magnet of the word ‘ciao’ holds a grocery list to the metal surface, decorated with smileys and scribbles. There are polaroids and reminders and a little digital clock that none of them ever use.

In the adjacent living area, a small grey cat is curled up on top of a hand-me-down two-seater sofa. She doesn’t have a name yet. Jeno left a door open one day, before Jaemin moved in, and since then she hasn’t left, chose this tiny, barely functional apartment as her permanent home.

They love her.

The windows are small. The blinds need to be fixed. There’s no bed frame, just futons on the bare wooden floor. The living room shelf is laden with potted succulents and small plants, all of them named after fictional characters. The door of the bathroom won’t quite close as the handle is missing.

It’s less than perfect. It is too small and barely enough for two people and a cat, and it took so long to get here.

But in the afternoon, sunlight filters through the glass and drenches the room in gold. On rainy days, the drops make a concert of comforting, familiar sounds outside on the window sills and the kitchen will smell like hot coffee and steamed milk. The wind chime outside sings with the stormy gusts and then snow makes everything quiet and cosy.

Maybe there’s no actual correlation between the two of them. Maybe there’s no science yet that’s able to explain this. Maybe it’s a miracle – maybe it’s fate – maybe it’s just what happens when two people truly love each other. 

This apartment is shitty and the walls are thin and the view isn’t too great but it’s home. It is _their_ home.

And that’s all they wanted it to be.

✈

It wasn’t easy. Of course it wasn’t. It was an entire year of anxiety.

There were doubts. Fears. Money worries and deadlines and always, always that distance between them. There was not enough sleep and too much time difference and when Jaemin called, all they could talk about was if they’d reached any of the goals, handed in the paperwork, applied for more jobs.

There was a time when they were fighting so much that Jeno stopped believing in them. He remembers that one phone call. Remembers sitting on the floor of his room trying not to give in to the tears after Jaemin had told Jeno he wasn’t sure if he was making the right decisions or looking at the correct definitions of what home actually meant. Always the same questions, always the same fears.

Jeno remembers thinking that maybe he couldn’t complete Jaemin after all. That maybe this was what he’d been so scared of all the time – Jaemin floating away from him.

“If you cannot find a definition,” Jeno said eventually, “you make your own.”

Jaemin was silent for a long time after that, a million miles away, untouchable. Jeno was losing hope that he’d ever say anything to him again, scared that this would be the end of it all. Inexplicably, he thought about standing in his mother’s kitchen with her asking him if it wasn’t at least worth a try.

And then Jaemin sniffled on the other end, doing what Jeno had been trying so hard to avoid, and said, “ _You_ are home, Jeno.”

Love is a waiting game; love is a spider web glistening with rain drops; love is the ocean lapping at Jeno’s bare feet.

That was the last time he ever had any serious doubts about the two of them.

And they made it. They’re here now. It’s only been about a month since Jaemin moved in; Jeno has been living in the apartment by himself since his semester started before Jaemin’s contract did. Jeno’s studying architecture and Jaemin is teaching English to kids at a local school. Just like that they’ve been thrown into the adult life but Jeno doesn’t dare complain.

It’s only been a month and there are still boxes that need to be unpacked and things that don’t have a place yet but Jeno doesn’t think he could be happier with how things have turned out. He gets to wake up next to Jaemin and he doesn’t need to be scared of a future that doesn’t have Jaemin anymore. Maybe in a year, things will be different. Maybe they won’t be. Regardless of what will happen, Jeno looks forward to spending as much time with Jaemin as he can. He’s learnt to appreciate every minute of it.

The universe is so kind to them, really.

Living with Jaemin is fairly easy most of the time. Jeno blames it on having travelled with him so much – he already knows most of Jaemin’s annoying habits, and to be fair it hasn’t been that long since Jaemin arrived in the first place.

They divide the chores: Jaemin cooks and does the laundry, Jeno cleans and does the grocery shopping. When Hyuck came over for the first time he called them “grossly domestic” and only stayed because Jaemin bribed him with dinner.

Of course it gets chaotic sometimes. Jaemin is as spontaneous as ever, making plans without checking Jeno’s schedule and then being sulky when it doesn’t work out. Sometimes they fight about whose turn it is to do the dishes. Sometimes they fight for the sake of fighting. Uni is stressful, Jeno learns, and so is maintaining a healthy relationship. Most times, though, he wakes up wondering what he did in his past life to deserve this.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asks Jaemin now. They’re sitting on the sofa, shoulder to shoulder. Jaemin is going through lesson plans while Jeno is watching the news on TV but he can’t focus. The shy December sun is setting, drowning the room in copper and gold, too beautiful to be ignored.

Jaemin looks up from his papers. “I didn’t until I met you.”

“Sappy.”

“You love it.”

“Maybe I do.”

They look at each other for a moment. Jeno thinks Jaemin looks best in the sun – so golden, so warm, a child of brightness. He belongs here, in the last minutes of daylight, everything soft and glowing. It reminds Jeno of a hundred sunsets they saw together. A hundred sunrises.

“Dance with me,” Jaemin says then and reaches for Jeno’s hands.

“Jaemin, there’s no music,” Jeno laughs but he lets himself be hoisted up.

Jaemin pulls him into the centre of the room and kicks a cat toy away. “Was there music when we danced in the rain? No. Come here.”

Jeno finds himself being pulled against Jaemin’s chest, cheek against cheek. Jaemin rests his hands on Jeno’s hips and starts swaying to an inaudible song, slow and gentle and lovely.

It probably looks ridiculous. Jeno isn’t sure how much time passes. The sunlight fades and the shadows in the apartment stretch longer and darker. At some point Jeno accidentally steps on Jaemin’s socked feet and they both laugh, pulling each other into a proper hug instead.

Jaemin leans back to look at Jeno. “I still can’t believe this is real.”

“Better get used to it,” Jeno replies. “You promised me forever.”

“And forever is just barely enough. Tell me a secret.”

“I don’t have any more. You know them all.”

“That can’t be true.”

“What about you then? What are you still hiding from me?”

Jaemin leans in, just shy of a kiss. Jeno almost goes cross-eyed trying to look at him but he won’t look away. “You know, I always thought home would be something concrete. A place, a location, something that I’d find if I looked long enough. Something like that. And that expectation made me feel so trapped. But really, it wasn’t something concrete. Home is the feeling you’ve given me. Home is hearing you open the front door. You’ve made me find it in myself.

“And this is the secret,” Jaemin says. “You set me free.”

Jeno stares at Jaemin. He remembers thinking of Jaemin as a firefly, too free to be trapped. But there was always something missing. Jeno thought that this something would take Jaemin away from him again. He didn’t think he’d help Jaemin find it after all.

He has no words to possibly give an answer, doesn’t have anything to say that he couldn’t show better, so he kisses Jaemin instead.

It’s late when Jaemin finally switches off the tiny desk lamp on the floor next to their bed. Jeno doesn’t know why he bothers having it on when the room never goes all the way dark anyways, broken blinds and city lights and all. Like this, he can still see the soft curves and edges of Jaemin’s relaxed face, the feathery shadows of his eyelashes, the curve of his mouth.

Jeno wonders if he’ll ever get used to this. Of being able to look at Jaemin whenever he wants to. If he’ll ever get used to what he’s seeing right now – Jaemin, lying on his side to face him, shirtless, the blanket carelessly thrown over his waist. The light pools at the edges of his collarbones. He looks at peace, gentle, someone who must be loved.

There are many memories that almost look the same but Jaemin never belonged to Jeno like this. On their journey, he was never someone Jeno thought he would be allowed to keep.

 _Fate_ , Jeno thinks, listening to Jaemin’s steady breath. It must have been fate for them to meet. It was the universe leading them to each other, bringing together what was never meant to be apart.

“Are you just going to stare at me?” Jaemin mumbles without opening his eyes, blindly reaching for Jeno. “That’s creepy, you know? Go to sleep.”

Jeno laughs quietly and lets Jaemin pull him against his chest. He can feel Jaemin breathing, his skin warm and familiar, and he closes his eyes.

Maybe, when he’s older, when Jaemin finds the first grey streaks in his hair and wrinkles around his eyes, Jeno will be used to seeing Jaemin next to him, as if there was no other option. Maybe there wasn’t, not really. But Jeno will always know – that they almost made the wrong choices. That they almost ended up too far away from each other.

Perhaps they would’ve found other ways to be happy. But it wouldn’t have been right like this.

Jeno will always know that they chose each other instead of taking the easy way out. Even when they’re old and grey and used to each other, Jeno thinks he’ll remember that.

They celebrate Christmas at Jeno’s childhood home. Jaemin’s parents fly in from London as well and Jeno doesn’t think the house has ever been this full. There are too many relatives and neighbours stopping by, Hyuck asking for attention when he gets bored of annoying his siblings, Eunjin shooing random people through the hallways to run errands for her.

At least the house stays warm like this. Maybe a little too warm, Jeno thinks, fanning his face when he’s finally done setting the table. They’ve had to use two different sets of plates because Jeno’s mum didn’t find enough of the same kind.

“This might be the best Christmas ever,” Jaemin says, finally joining in to help.

“Where were you?” Jeno whines. “I had to carry like, twenty plates alone.”

Jaemin snorts. “Sorry, your dad kept asking me about my kids.”

“Goddammit.” It’s something Jeno should have expected but somehow didn’t anticipate – just how much Jaemin loves the kids he teaches. Sometimes Jeno feels like he knows them all personally. “Do something useful and tell everyone dinner’s almost ready, will you?”

“So bossy,” Jaemin mumbles. “Will I get a kiss if I do?”

“My mum introduced you to the others as my best friend, _strictly platonic_ , so no, you won’t. Just go.”

Jaemin pouts. “Isn’t Christmas about loving everyone? Whatever, I’ll get that kiss later.”

Jeno shakes his head, watching Jaemin go.

“We shouldn’t have bothered,” Eunjin says somewhere behind him. When he turns around she quirks her eyebrow at him.

“With what?” Jeno asks.

She rolls her eyes. “A blind person can tell you’re whipped for each other.”

“You say that like you don’t stare at Chanwoo as if he hung the stars in the sky.”

“I certainly do not because unlike someone else I know, _I_ have self-control.”

“That is _so_ not true –”

“Kids, it’s Christmas.” Jeno’s father appears in the doorway, smiling. “Be nice to each other for once.”

Eunjin grabs Jeno by the nape and forces him into a sideways hug. “Merry Christmas, little boy.”

“I’m over a head taller than you,” Jeno grits out, pinching his sister in the side.

“Jeno.” That’s Jaemin, standing in the threshold to the living room. The room seems to change, seems brighter and too full of people. Somehow, when Jaemin calls his name, Jeno can’t help but listen. Maybe Eunjin is right after all. “Can you come help me with this thing?”

“Sure,” Jeno says and pushes his sister away.

He hears the whispered “ugh, whipped” but chooses to ignore it. He knows it’s true.

“What do you need me for? Dinner’s almost ready.” Jeno asks. The living room is miraculously empty, which seems suspicious. Then again, Jeno’s mum has roped his aunt and several cousins into helping in the kitchen, others are outside trying to fix fairy lights to the front door and Jaemin’s parents are upstairs freshening up for dinner.

“I know,” Jaemin says, grabbing both of Jeno’s hands. “I told everyone, so they’re all barging through the house, leaving this room empty, so I can kiss you right here.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Jaemin shrugs. “You love me. And I love you. And I just really want to kiss you in the second-brightest room in the house and it’s Christmas and we’re both here and everyone gets along and it just – it just means so much.”

“Are you really going to make a speech?” Jeno asks. “I’m hungry, you know?”

“Shut up. You’re beautiful. You look amazing in red. I’m just – I’m grateful for you.”

Jeno smiles and looks down at their feet. “You’re making me emotional.”

“I know.” Jaemin tips Jeno’s chin up and kisses him. It’s gentle and chaste and private, like the first snow.

“I’m grateful for you, too,” Jeno says when they pull apart. “But if we aren’t at the table in five minutes my mum will rip my head off.”

Jaemin laughs, a little bit hoarse, a little bit croaky. He’s beautiful. He’s stunning. Jeno kisses him again before he grabs his hands and pulls him along.

They arrive in the dining room just when Jeno’s aunt sets the first bowl of food down on the table, people chattering happily around the room. Eunjin meets Jeno’s eyes and smirks but somehow this time it doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

Something about Christmas always reminds Jeno of his childhood. Maybe it’s his family. Maybe it’s the traditions. The excitement for presents and the food and the sweets. As always, the adults leave the kids to play among themselves to go get drunk together.

Technically neither Jeno nor Eunjin are kids anymore but some things don’t change. “Maybe when I have kids of my own,” Eunjin always says. “Then I’ll need the alcohol to survive Christmas.”

They’re sitting on the kitchen floor now, just Eunjin, Jaemin and Jeno, sharing hot chocolate. The younger cousins are in the living room; Jeno can hear the sound of wrapping paper being crunched. He’s glad he already brought his own gifts to safety.

Jaemin’s present for Jeno was a reservation at a ski resort. Jeno knew Jaemin would most likely invite him to go somewhere since Jaemin specifically asked him to clear four days of all schedules but somehow it still surprised him. Jeno has never been skiing before; he’s looking forward to giving it a try. Mostly though, he’s looking forward to spending a vacation together with Jaemin that doesn’t result in separation. It’s the first time after all.

“It’s a shame Chanwoo couldn’t stay,” Jaemin says, letting Jeno drape himself over his legs.

Eunjin hums. “Jeno would’ve teased me mercilessly if he was here.”

“Is that why he left?” Jeno asks. “Because you’re too proud?”

She makes a face and Jaemin laughs. “Obviously not. He had to visit relatives.”

They sit in silence for a while, listening to the familiar sounds of the house. Jaemin cards his fingers through Jeno’s hair and he can feel himself getting drowsy.

“Hey,” Eunjin says then and bites her lip. It’s her tell of nervousness; Jeno has known it since he was ten. “Do you guys want to hear a secret?”

“Of course,” Jeno says and sits up.

“Chanwoo and I,” she says sheepishly, “are getting married.”

Jaemin gasps dramatically. Jeno just stares for a moment.

“You what?!” he asks. “Holy shit, does mum know?”

Jaemin elbows him in the side and leans forward to hug Eunjin, whose smile looks a little watery. “Oh my God, congrats! When did he ask?”

“A week ago,” she says and then looks at Jeno. “And no, mum doesn’t know. Chanwoo wants to ask our parents for their blessings on New Year’s but I don’t see a reason why they would say no, so… best get ready to help plan a wedding.”

“You’re really getting married,” Jeno marvels. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

Eunjin snorts. “You’re impossible.”

And then they’re all laughing. They’re laughing so hard that Eunjin has to wipe tears away with shaky hands and Jeno has to clutch his stomach. They laugh so loudly one of the cousins comes to investigate on what’s so funny. But they can’t stop – Jeno is so _happy_. For his sister, for Jaemin, for himself. It’s Christmas and everyone’s making a future for themselves, finding their places in the world, even him, Lee Jeno, who didn’t know he’d been lost at all until he was found.

Jeno doesn’t remember much of New Year’s Eve. He spent it with Jaemin and friends from uni, at someone’s apartment, and got very drunk. He used to think he couldn’t be that kind of person but in the past year he’s learnt a lot about himself. He has learnt that he’s allowed to be a basic college boy if he feels like it. He’s learnt to live life to the fullest and in this case that apparently meant getting smashed beyond reason and then passing out at half past eleven.

Turns out Jaemin remembers a lot more from that night.

“It was hilarious,” Jaemin says, handing Jeno a bowl of porridge. He looks a lot more alive than Jeno, who feels like he got run over by three busses at once. “God, I hope Hyuck took a video of that.”

“If he has,” Jeno croaks, “I will blackmail him into deleting it.”

“Wow, ambitious.”

“I grew up with him. There’s nothing I don’t know.”

Jaemin finally sits down next to Jeno with his own bowl, knocking his knee into Jeno’s thigh. “But it really was funny. You just curled up on the glass table, like a cat that chooses the most impossible places to sleep in.”

“Why can’t you tell me of the happy moments?” Jeno asks, miserably sticking his spoon into his food. His stomach doesn’t like the idea of eating, so he puts the bowl away and scoots down until he can rest his head on Jaemin’s lap.

Jaemin smiles down at him. “You did say you love me. A lot. And you also said you want to spend every New Year’s with me. You’re a sappy drunk. It’s a shame you were already asleep before you could be my new year’s kiss.”

“Shouldn’t have asked.”

They stay like that in silence and at some point Jeno doses off. Jaemin is the warmest, most comfortable pillow in the world and Jeno is too weak to fight off unconsciousness right now. He doesn’t think Jaemin really minds anyway.

By the time Jeno wakes up again the sun hangs low in the sky and Jaemin isn’t on the couch anymore. His place has been taken by their cat who’s noisily cleaning herself, only stopping briefly to stare at Jeno when he sits up.

Jaemin is nowhere to be seen, so Jeno traipses through the flat to find him. It’s extra quiet today; with a look out the window Jeno notices it’s snowing again.

Jeno eventually finds him in their bedroom, folding laundry. There’s an open suitcase in the corner that they still haven’t packed even though they’re leaving for the ski trip tomorrow.

“Why are you so… active…” Jeno grumbles and flops down on the mattress. “Shouldn’t you be a little hungover, too?”

Jaemin just grins at him, ignoring his question. “Renjun says he might come visit us in spring. I think we should introduce Hyuck to him.”

Jeno raises an eyebrow. “Do you want the world to end?”

“Imagine Hyuck’s face when he realises he’s finally encountered an opponent of equal skill.”

Jeno can almost see it in his head: the outrage, changing into offended wonder, and then back to outrage. “Fair enough.”

He watches Jaemin for a lazy moment before he sits up and grabs an unfolded shirt. Jaemin is never neat enough when he does this.

“Are you looking forward to tomorrow?” Jaemin asks, happily pushing the rest of the laundry over to Jeno to finish the job.

“Of course.”

“Next year we should go to Finland or something. To see the northern lights.”

“We should.”

“Jeno.”

Jeno glances up, finding Jaemin looking at him with his chin propped up in his hands. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jaemin says. “I just like it when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t care about anything else.”

Jeno swallows. “Maybe I don’t.”

They don’t fold the rest of the laundry or pack their suitcases until much later that day.

Seeing Jaemin on a ski slope is something else. Since Jeno has never been here before, so it takes him a bit to get the hang of it but Jaemin helps him. It’s tiring and the cold bites even the smallest amount of exposed skin but it’s fun. It might not be as adventurous as their past destinations but this time Jeno knows he’ll get to take Jaemin back home and that makes all the difference in the world. Every day he reminds himself he no longer needs to be scared of losing Jaemin. Because he loves him, and because he knows – and believes – that Jaemin loves him, too.

The future is bright as a spring morning.

Jeno will go home to his parents every other weekend and sometimes, he’ll get into Jaemin’s car and Jaemin will ask, “Where to, sweetheart?” and Jeno will reply, “Anywhere.” With Jaemin next to him it will feel like the world is theirs, and it’s always felt like this, in a way. With Jaemin, there’s only forward.

In spring, Jeno’s sister will marry Chanwoo. Everyone will cry. Jaemin will take Jeno’s hand and later they will slow-dance, and when they send lanterns into the sky, Jeno’s wish will be that in the future it will be possible for him to marry Jaemin, too.

It won’t always that great. Jaemin’s grandmother will get sick and he’ll fly to the UK for two weeks, alone, to say goodbye. He’ll come back hollow and grieving and it will break Jeno’s heart to see him like that.

Hyuck will have a relationship for exactly three weeks before he realises it doesn’t feel right. He’ll stay at Jeno’s and Jaemin’s place for a week, pretending to be heartbroken, and Jeno will indulge him because he knows Hyuck feels lonely. A month later, Renjun will come to visit for the first time and attach himself to Hyuck in a way that no one could have foreseen.

Jeno won’t have it any other way.

He loves his course despite it being so difficult and he loves his tiny flat even though it’s so imperfect and he loves Jaemin, will continue to love him, because it’s Jaemin.

Jeno doesn’t think about any this yet. Right now, standing at the window of their little winter cabin, arms slung around each other as they watch the sun rise over the mountain crest, it’s like Jeno can see how far they’ve come and how far they have yet to go.

Jaemin is a little magic nestled between the ordinary hills of home. Much like the glittering city lights of Seoul, of Dubai, of London. He’s the adrenaline rush right before the plane lifts off the tarmac. He’s the glow of a three-quarter moon drenching Jeno’s skin in muted silver. The morning light on the sloping fields, a red string curling in the wind, gold dust on the mountainside.

Jaemin took Jeno by the hand and showed him the world and not a single second of it all felt real. Like oversaturated colour. A theory of happiness. Charged potential. Jaemin, free as a soaring bird, untethered as a dandelion seed.

But _this_ is real: Jaemin’s hand in Jeno’s, warm and familiar, a home built to grow.

“Tell me a secret,” Jeno asks. “Tell me a secret I don’t yet know, seeker.”

Jaemin laughs his starlight laugh. “Maybe I wasn’t the seeker,” he says. “Maybe it was you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this is it. i hope this little epilogue rounded everything up again. this story took me over ten months (and seven drafts) to write. it didn't have a happy ending in the first few versions but the nice thing about fiction is that it can give us the closure that real life denies us. i didn't write this story to be realistic - i wrote it for catharsis. 
> 
> It probably wasn’t the best idea to post gd unfinished when it means this much to me and nothing to others. But I love all those that have told me how they can relate to Jaemin because it makes me feel less alone. There are people that feel the same and people that don’t, people that feel like jeno instead, and people in between.  
> people have started sharing their own stories with me. About travelling. About people they’ve met. Destinations they want to see. People said this fic made them question their life choices.  
> thank you so so much to everyone who's commented/bookmarked (i recognise your usernames and get a rush of happiness) and left kudos or ccs or song recs. 
> 
> So much has happened since this journey began and at the same time it feels like nothing has changed. I still don’t know anything. I wish I would’ve found a better answer at the end of this process but we don’t always get what we want, or even what we need. But I can always write about someone who does, right? 
> 
> I hope this story gave you something. i hope you took something away from it. thank you so so much again for reading and supporting my writing, it has really been such a ride. thank you so much.  
> 
> 
> talk to me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ki_jaemjen)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ki_jaemin)
> 
> [gold dust playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2GEgmh9kBamvijNwyKlamU)


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